


Intimate Instincts

by SpecterQueen



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Blood and Gore, Bottom Hannibal, Bottom Will, College Student Will Graham, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Graphic Description, Justifiable Homicide, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Midwest University, No Cannabalism sorry, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Professor Hannibal, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Top Hannibal, Top Will, Underage Drinking, Unprofessional Relationship, age gap, unconventional therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-08-19 23:00:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8227712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpecterQueen/pseuds/SpecterQueen
Summary: University - College AU | Young university student Will Graham has suffered a recent tragedy and is in need of psychiatric care. Dr. Hannibal Lecter is a retired psychiatrist now teaching at the university, and is persuaded to offer his assistance. He guides Will down an unconventional path of therapy in hopes of helping him cope with his trauma. As the therapy progresses, they discover a mutual understanding they have never experienced before. At the mercy of their growing affections, their doctor-patient relationship develops into something more.   Note: There is a big age gap in this fic. Will is 20 and Hannibal is 40 going on 41.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

The sharp sound of metal hitting concrete jarred him back to his senses.

His hands were splattered in deep red liquid, cutting slick paths down his forearms as he moved. He was breathing heavily and sitting on the floor of an unfamiliar room, illuminated poorly by light filtering in through grimy windows. Absently, he attempted to wipe his hands clean on his flannel shirt and glanced around nervously. It looked like a mechanic’s garage, if the scattered tools and beat up Oldsmobile and Ford were any indication. It was dirty, cool, and dark. He could not remember how he had gotten to his current location, or where he was for that matter.

After staggering to his feet, his eyes quickly fell on two figures slumped on the concrete floor in the slight distance. A puddle was rapidly forming around them, so dark he could easily mistake it for oil. He noticed the wet trail between them and himself, then looked warily to the stained spot he had been sitting upon. A large wrench lay there, painted in vivid red and bits of gore.

A flash of a scene tugged at the edges of his consciousness. A girl screamed. Metal glinted and droplets sprayed his face. A man laughed and then wheezed. The glimpses made no sense. He took a few tentative steps forward towards the bodies. There was a man and a girl. The girl’s head was turned away from him, but the man…his open lifeless eyes stared, oddly fixated in his direction. His left cheekbone was sunken in and shattered, as well as parts of his skull, distorting his features. One of his arms was bent at an unnatural angle, and his shirt was soaked in blood.

The sound of approaching sirens did not startle him so much as wake him from a stupor. He stepped back and nearly slipped in the puddle that was still slowly growing. Bringing his trembling hands to eye level, he watched as his breath came out in a fog around them. He tossed a panicked glance back to the wrench once again and another memory flashed. The man’s smiling face before the strong steel collided with his jaw.

He turned suddenly, slipped again, and bolted for the door. The beams of several flashlights blinded him and he swore he caught the gleam of guns pointed squarely at his chest.

“Freeze!” called out a powerful voice. “Hands in the air!”

He blinked rapidly and did as instructed.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I don’t really think this is necessary,” sighed Will into his phone, idly stirring his coffee.

“I know you’re not happy about the idea of therapy, but I’m concerned. It’s been nearly a year since the incident and the episodes are-“

“Dad,” said Will, cutting his father off mid-sentence. He ignored the tremor that ran through his body at the mere mention of the incident and fled to the window. “The…episodes really aren’t that bad.”

His father was silent a moment, possibly contemplating his choice of words. “I’ve heard otherwise,” he finally settled on. “I don’t want to make this an ultimatum, but I will if you force me.”

Will stared out the large, paned window to the gray, overcast sky beyond, wondering who had tattled on him. Was it Jack? Beverly? He certainly wanted to find out. The bleak expanse of empty roads and a few abandoned buildings greeted him. The trees in the nearby lot were painted in the vibrant hues of autumn, leaves already starting to fall, revealing skeletal branches beneath. His father was graciously footing the bill for his college career, as well as his accommodations outside of the campus dorms. Living in close proximity to his fellow classmates had seemed entirely unappealing. He had been thrilled when he found listings for industrial loft apartments, repurposed from an abandoned factory. The location was perfect being somewhat isolated from the city in an old, scarcely populated warehouse district.

After some hasty consideration, he decided he did not feel like jeopardizing his academic endeavors with foolish reluctance. He was just over a month into his first semester and doing well so far. Besides the alleged “episodes”, which for the most part, he had kept out of school entirely.

“Fine,” he said with a frown he wished his father could see. “I’ll go.”

“Great! Thank you,” said his father sounding relieved. “Go see Jack after your first class. He’ll give you the details.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“What did you tell my dad?” demanded Will sternly. He slung his bag onto one of the empty chairs and started pacing.

Jack Crawford peered over his newspaper at the young man that had barged into his office, as he usually did, without an appointment. His expression was mildly amused and he seemed to be in no rush to answer.

“I didn’t tell him anything,” he said after a few minutes. “I merely suggested that perhaps you could benefit from therapy and that I might know a great psychiatrist, being head of the psychology department and all.”

“That…that’s not fair, Jack,” said Will coming to an abrupt halt and raking a hand through his dark hair. “You betrayed my trust,” he added pinning the older man with an accusing glare.

“Easy there,” laughed Jack placing his paper on the desk and resting his folded hands on it. “Even if you hadn’t confided in me, it’s clear to see you’re struggling.”

“I’m fine,” retorted Will defensively. He drummed his fingers on the back of a chair, clearly too agitated to sit.

“You know, Dr. Bloom was the one that brought it up first,” confessed Jack, noting the way Will’s jaw clenched at the statement. “She said you’ve become increasingly distracted in class, and that she was worried it may affect your grade. Your dad calling me only sealed the deal.”

“That’s….unfortunate,” ground out Will averting his eyes.

Jack let out a deep sigh and regarded Will for a moment. “Just try it out, okay? If you hate it or it’s not working, I’ll talk to your dad and we’ll figure something else out.”

“I already agreed to go, but thank you,” said Will, relaxing his shoulders a bit at Jack’s kind offer. “So…who is this psychiatrist that I’m going to be seeing?”

“He’s a professor here,” answered Jack opening a drawer to rifle through it. “He retired from practicing and settled into teaching. It took a little convincing on my part to get him to agree to see you.” He chuckled to himself as he found the card he was looking for and handed it over to Will. “This cost me hours of my precious time and too much good brandy.”

“Dr. Hannibal Lecter,” said Will reading the card. “Interesting name.”

“And an interesting person,” added Jack. “He’s in class right now, but will be done by 11. He requested that you meet with him in his office at that time.”

“Okay,” said Will noting the office number on the card. It was relatively close to Jack’s, but a hall over. “Thanks,” he mumbled before pocketing the card and retrieving his messenger bag.

“Let me know how it goes!” called Jack to his retreating back as he left without a goodbye.

Will waved a hand to acknowledge he heard Jack and left his office in the same rush he had entered. Why he was rushing, he had no idea. There was still the better part of an hour to go before 11. The campus was large and old, sporting abundant acres of land and an assortment of buildings, some of which were built in the late 19th century. The one he currently wandered through was definitely old, though how much so, he could only guess. He eventually came to rest on the wide sill of a tall, arched window and decided to study.

Roughly twenty minutes into his study session, he startled when someone hit him on the back. He defensively flung an arm up and twisted his torso, nearly spilling the book on his lap.

“Hey,” said Beverly Katz with a wave, smartly retreated to a safe distance.

“Hi, Bev,” he said moving his bag to give her space to sit across from him.

“How are you holding up?” she asked after sitting down.

“I’m okay,” said Will with an exasperated tone. “You know…it’s not fun constantly being talked to like you’re crazy.”

“Oh, come on,” said Beverly, swatting at his knee lightly. “This is me you’re talking to. I know you’re not crazy. You’re just…hypersensitive and been through some tough shit.”

“That’s one way to put it,” said Will frowning into his book. “Hey, you didn’t tell my dad about what happened last week, right?”

“What?” asked Beverly looking confused before realization dawned on her face. “No! No way, man. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Okay, thanks-“

“But I may have slipped and told Abigail,” she interrupted looking guilty.

Will sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face. Beverly had unexpectedly shown up at his apartment after one of his worse episodes the previous week. Luckily, she had only seen the aftermath, but it was enough to throw her into a motherly fit of concern. She must have been so worried that she mentioned it to Abigail, whom Beverly knew would contact his father at some point. Indirect tattling. Fantastic.

“Thanks to you two and your overwhelming ‘concern’ I now have to see a psychiatrist," said Will with a bitter laugh.

“Seriously?” asked Beverly, genuinely surprised. “I’m sorry…I didn’t think your old man had it in him to force you. Maybe you’ll just get some drugs and be shooed out the door? That’s how psychiatrists normally work from what I know.”

“Probably not in my case,” mused Will. “The guy I’m seeing is a professor here, retired from practice. I don’t think he can prescribe drugs.”

“Bummer,” said Beverly. “Who is it?”

Will fished the card out of his pocket and handed it to Beverly. “Know him?” he asked.

Beverly shrugged and handed the card back. “Never heard of him, but this is our first semester. I could ask around.”

“No, that’s okay,” said Will with a dismissive wave. “I’ll know what he’s like soon enough. I’m due to see him in about fifteen minutes.”

“Well then, good luck,” she said patting his hand encouragingly. “I have to get to my next class. Call me if you need anything.”

“Sure thing,” said Will forcing a smile as Beverly stood, retrieved her bag, and jogged away.

As much as he had wanted to yell at Beverly for essentially ratting him out, she was one of his closest friends and he did not want to repay her concern with anger. They had even tried dating briefly in high school. It hadn’t worked out, but neither had harbored any grudges or resentment over it. She was one of the few people that actually listened to him without judgment. Sure, she offered unwanted advice from time to time, but never really forced her agenda, merely suggested.

Glancing at his phone, he saw it was nearly 11. He shut his book and shoved it into his bag before shouldering it. The walk to the office was minimal and when he knocked, he received no answer. Figuring he was too early, he leaned against the wall and pulled out his phone, checking his notifications. His father had already text him to ask if he had seen Jack. He quickly replied that yes, he had seen Jack and was currently waiting to see the doctor. He looked up in time to see a stately man in an expensive suit striding down the hallway, briefcase in hand, and somehow knew it was his psychiatrist.

Dr. Lecter was a fairly tall man, an inch or so over Will at least, and carried himself with confidence. His chin was tilted up in an almost arrogant gesture, as if he were literally looking down his nose at everyone. His hair was a medium ash brown, slightly over grown but not enough to look disheveled, and Will could not discern the color of his eyes, only that they were unnervingly steady. Those eyes locked with his and he pushed himself from the wall, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Will Graham, I presume,” said the man with an accented tone, of which Will could not guess the origin. He took a key from his briefcase and unlocked his office door. “Nice of you to be early. Please, after you.”

Will mumbled a thank you and entered the office quickly, only to stand awkwardly by the desk as the professor made his way behind it. He sat down and gestured at one of the two empty chairs before pulling a laptop and leather bound notebook from his briefcase. Will sat down and tried not to fidget.

“It’s nice to meet you, Will. I’m Dr. Hannibal Lecter, the cognitive psychology professor here. Where would you like to begin today?”

Will flicked his eyes to Hannibal’s, then shifted them to the window beyond him. The doctor’s eyes were a mahogany hue. An intense color to match an intense stare. “Isn’t it your job to figure that out?” he asked with a small smile. He had a bad habit of smiling when he was nervous and often wondered if it gave off the wrong impression.

“Fair enough,” said Hannibal with a smile of his own. “Why don’t you tell me why you think you are here?”

“Don’t you already know?” said Will, sounding defeated. “I’m sure Jack gave you a convincing sob story.”

“I only know basics,” said Hannibal after a pause. “I was given access to your student record and told only what was necessary by Jack. What I’m more interested in is how you perceive what happened.”

“How I perceive what happened?” repeated Will, his pitch rising. “It has nothing to do with how I perceive it. I killed a man in self defense.”

Hannibal nodded as he opened up his notebook and began to write. “That was a very traumatic event to experience at such a young age,” he said as wrote. “How old were you exactly when it happened?”

“Nineteen,” said Will as a familiar sensation once again started tugging at his mind. It almost felt like pieces of his brain were trying to tear free, and usually headaches came in its wake. Sometimes the episodes came with it too. He had no idea how to even begin addressing such an issue.

“Can you describe the event? Any level of detail you’re comfortable with is fine.”

“I can tell you about the beginning and the end,” said Will shifting in the chair. “I don’t remember what happened in the middle.”

“You mean, you don’t remember actually killing the man?” asked Hannibal, still taking quick notes. He stopped to look up at Will and effectively caught his eyes, managing to hold them for the longest length of time yet.

“For the most part,” answered Will looking down and tucking an errant curl behind his ear. It immediately fell free and he sighed raggedly. “I remember bits and pieces. Sometimes they come in nightmares…sometimes they come when I’m wide awake.”

“Do these memories induce any reactions? Any type of specific behavior or episodes?” asked Hannibal tilting his head slightly as if requesting more eye contact.

Will granted him a brief direct glance before closing them for a moment. “Yes,” he said quietly.

“Do you feel comfortable describing these reactions or episodes to me?”

“I…I don’t know,” stuttered Will gripping the armrests tightly.

“Will,” said Hannibal drawing his attention with the gentle yet authoritative tone of his voice. “If we are to make any true progress during your therapy, you must trust me. Some of the things that I ask of you will be difficult or uncomfortable, but please be aware that I only have your best interests in mind.”

“Yeah…okay,” said Will after hesitating a moment.

Hannibal’s words were fancy, frivolous, and hinged on comforting manipulation tactics that were so common in the field, but he knew they were necessary. Most people probably fell for them rather quickly. He did not want to make the good doctor work too hard to crack him, but something told him he would be up for the challenge if presented. He was terrified of and interested in finding out how much buried memories could be brought to the surface. Still, the thought of discovering secrets his own mind refused him with a stranger spiked his anxiety to an intolerable level.

“You seem skeptical,” said Hannibal putting his pen down and directing his full attention to Will.

“Maybe,” shrugged Will casting his gaze to the sides of the office. There was an abundance of potted plants, dark wooden shelves crammed full of books, a few prints of classic Italian paintings, and other various office appropriate knickknacks. Dr. Lecter’s license and awards were proudly displayed as well. Everything was tasteful but not very telling on a personal level. “It’s a very uncomfortable subject. I haven’t really shared it with anyone willingly, not even the court ordered therapist I was sent to last year.”

“How about we take some time to get to know each other first then?” suggested Hannibal casually. “Perhaps you would feel more comfortable sharing your experience with someone you know. You are not a formal patient, so I see no harm in taking an unorthodox approach.”

Will was a little surprised by the offer. It was a brilliant tactic that was really only afforded to them by their unique situation. Or perhaps not. Some psychiatrists were known for taking unconventional approaches, he was sure. Either way, it was a good move on Hannibal’s part.

“That sounds agreeable,” said Will relaxing marginally. Perhaps the therapy had a chance of working out after all.

“Excellent,” said Hannibal with a subtle smile that Will was beginning to realize was characteristic. “Tell me, Will, what are your hobbies?”

“I like to fish,” he responded immediately. It was one of the few things his father had taken time in teaching him, and remained a source of comfort. “And…um, working on engines. Boats, cars, motorcycles, it doesn’t really matter. I have a classic car, so it comes in handy.”

“Productive hobbies,” said Hannibal smiling a little more broadly. “Anything else?”

“I like reading, fiction mostly,” said Will. “Sometimes I take temporary jobs to keep my mind occupied, like bussing tables or volunteering at the animal shelter. What about you, Dr. Lecter?”

“I enjoy cooking,” he answered. “I play the harpsichord and Theremin, write and draw, as well as work out, my favorite way being swimming.”

“The Theremin, huh?” said Will smirking. “That’s an interesting instrument.”

“Indeed it is,” agreed Hannibal. “An instrument that requires no direct contact but rather intuition. I find it challenging and rewarding.”

“I’ve never been too good with instruments, but that sounds like fun.”

Hannibal let out a warm but subdued chuckle. “Perhaps one day you can come and try your hand at it?”

“Isn’t that…a little unprofessional to offer?” asked Will, though he would be lying if he said he was not interested.

“Please, forgive my boldness,” said Hannibal shaking his head slightly. “Nobody has ever expressed an interest in it before…I got excited at the prospect of showing someone how to use it.”

It was then that Will glimpsed a tiny thread of loneliness slip through the doctor’s carefully constructed demeanor. He had always considered himself burdened with a gift of extraordinary empathy. This gift had instantly alerted him to Hannibal’s ability to mask and smooth out lesser desired personality traits. He carried this ability around himself like a shroud, presenting only the calm and pleasant to his average fellow man. Will knew the type, though had not encountered it frequently. In fact, he would call the ability rather rare, as most people tended to present their emotions and intentions in a fairly direct manner.

While he did appreciate frank honesty very much, the mystery surrounding people like Hannibal set his inquisitive mind racing. Will was gripped with the sudden urge to know the man sitting before him as well as he possibly could, to peel away the layers of him one at a time until he was laid bare. That brief glimpse of emotion agitated something deep inside him that he had not even known existed, and it flowed through his body in a wave, awakening every nerve on its path. It was a tremendous and entirely unexpected response and he could not help the fine tremble it caused.

“Will? Are you alright?” asked Hannibal staring at him with concern.

“Ah…yes, sorry!” he said much too forcefully, then cringed at his awkward response. “I just…uh, I think I’m…just hungry,” he finished lamely.

“It is close to lunchtime,” said Hannibal with a sympathetic expression. “We can end the session early for today, if you’d like.”

“Okay,” said Will not trusting himself to respond any more elaborately. The odd sensation from a moment ago had come back for a second wave, spurred on by the overly kind look Hannibal was giving him. Without being properly dismissed, he abruptly stood and retrieved his bag. It was also then that he realized he had been so nervous he had never even taken off his jacket. Great start.

“Will,” called Hannibal with a touch of urgency.

Nearly to the door, Will stopped and looked over his shoulder. He still did not dare to speak beyond a vague noise to indicate he was listening.

“I would like to see you again tomorrow. Come here at noon for lunch.”

“W-what?” sputtered Will turning his body more towards Hannibal in shock. “Are we…going out to eat? Is that…why would-“

“No, no, you’ve misunderstood,” laughed Hannibal cutting Will off. “I always bring my own food for lunch. I don’t care much for the cafeteria and usually don’t have time to go out. If you’re interested in getting to know me, I would like for you to have some of my cooking. I promise you, it’s very good.”

“Oh,” uttered Will, once again surprised. Such an easy opportunity had presented itself. Surely, it would be foolish to reject it. “That would be nice,” he said with a small yet genuine smile.

“Wonderful. I’ll see you then, Will.”

Will nodded and all but launched himself out of the office. His feet mechanically carried him through the halls and out of the building, into the brisk autumn air. He slowed his pace and tried to shake off the chill that ran down his spine. He would have loved to blame it on the cool weather, but he knew better. Mentioning of the incident had set him to thinking about it, even if he had not explained it beyond a few simple statements. The welcome distraction of interest in Dr. Lecter had only delayed its momentum.

He managed to make it to his Chevelle before the first scene flashed, and leaned over the steering wheel desperately trying to will it away. The man stood hunched over a young girl, hands delved deep into her sliced open abdomen. Fresh, bright red blood glistened on his sinewy arms and he paused to look up, startling at the sight of Will. Recognition spread over the man’s face and it broke into a wicked smile.

“Nice of you to join me,” said the man. He withdrew one hand and used it to carefully tip the girl onto her side. Her intestines started to spill out of the incision and he carefully guided the bulk of them out onto the steel table. “You can keep a secret…right, Will?”

The scene abruptly ended, leaving Will shaking and covered in sweat. It was a part of the incident he plainly remembered, but that did not make it any less disturbing. Once again, he worried that he was going crazy. He knew he was definitely suffering from post traumatic stress disorder, but the episodes -that were far too close to hallucinations- brought it to a whole new level. Even though he truly wanted to figure out what had happened that night, outside of what crime scene investigators had deduced, a large part of him was absolutely terrified of what he may remember. His mind had certainly blocked the memories for a good reason. Did he really want to go digging around for them and invite more trauma?

Unfortunately, his mind was screaming “no” and his heart was insisting “yes”. It needed the memories to feel complete, ever aware of the persisting gap. Will normally and foolishly followed his heart in most matters. Try as he may to ignore it or use rational thought to negate it, he frequently found himself at its mercy. Definitely a downside to being a person with their empathy dial set too high. It tortured and berated his mind with feelings until it relinquished.

After quickly wiping the cooling sweat from his face, Will fumbled the keys into the ignition and started his car. It roared to life noisily before he shifted it into drive and headed home. A shower and coffee were in order if he was going to make his afternoon class. It was a relief to watch as less and less cars and people littered the roads as he approached the warehouse district. By the time he pulled into his street side parking space, not another soul was present. He was not sure how many people actually lived in the building besides him, and he rarely saw or heard much commotion besides quiet music or a light on in a random window. Naturally, he did occasionally see a person or two coming and going, but not every day, and that suited him just fine. Perhaps the building’s remote location and questionable surroundings were not massively appealing.

The first thing he did upon entering the apartment was drop his bag on his couch -a nice, charcoal gray IKEA one his father had insisted on buying- and go to the kitchen to begin brewing a pot of coffee. Will had absolutely refused to buy a Keurig machine, claiming it would not adequately supply his self-proclaimed coffee addiction. He much preferred the standard machines that allowed him to nurse cup after cup from their generous carafes. When his father had argued that Keurig made a system that would allow him to brew a pot, he had obstinately shushed the man until he gave up.

He heard his phone’s notification sound go off and pulled it out of his pocket. It was a text and he fully expected it to be from his father or Jack, maybe even Beverly. He sighed at the message he read after unlocking the screen.

 

_Abigail Hobbs: I’m sorry_

When he did not immediately answer, another text flashed onto the screen.

_Abigail Hobbs: Plz don’t be mad at me_

Will sighed again and started typing a response.

_Will Graham: It’s okay, I’m not mad_

_Abigail Hobbs: Did your dad really force u to see a shrink?_

_Will Graham: Yes. I saw him today._

_Abigail Hobbs: omg I’m really really sorry Will. Was it bad?_

_Will Graham: No, not really. He’s a professor at the university and he’s actually kinda interesting. He’s taking a relaxed approach_

_Abigail Hobbs: Oh thank god! If it gets bad plz let me know. I’ll talk to your dad_

_Will Graham: Thanks but I think I’ll be okay. How’s school?_

_Abigail Hobbs: It’s okay. Being a senior isn’t as fun as I expected. Nobody is bullying me but they’re pretty much keeping their distance_

_Will Graham: Their loss, I say. Tell me if they start bothering you and I’ll set them straight, okay?_

_Abigail Hobbs: Thanks, I will. I gotta get back to class now. Maybe we can hang out later in the week?_

_Will Graham: Sure thing. Just let me know_

_Abigail Hobbs: Okay, see you later_

 

Will smiled and set his phone down on the counter. As he set to fixing a cup of coffee to his preference, he felt relieved that the confrontation with Abigail had been gentle. They normally were with her, but he was always apprehensive when it came to any of their interactions that involved potential conflict. He also knew it was bad to coddle people, but he could not seem to help himself in regards to her.

He shook his head and scrubbed at his face with both hands. The shower would have to wait, he needed a distraction. Homework was his best bet. Taking his coffee, he made his way to the couch, sat down, and pulled out his laptop and books. He spread them on the coffee table and turned on the TV to provide some background noise, since the district was often eerily quiet.

He got a quarter of the way through his English homework before his mind started to wander to Dr. Lecter, which was a welcome change from where it normally went. It was refreshing to be genuinely curious about someone again. He had never been particularly outgoing, and after the incident he had found it necessary to become somewhat of a recluse. The occasional times he did managed to socialize felt forced and awkward at best. His lack of interest in people only proved to further disturb him since he was positive it was a side effect of his stress disorder.

During the rest of his daily routine, Will found himself thinking more and more about the potential of getting to know Dr. Lecter, to the point it distracted him in class. Dismally, he considered that he may only be interested in Hannibal because he was offering him answers and possibly relief from his episodes. Optimistically, he considered that Hannibal was different and more complex than the average person, and that there was much in him worth knowing. It was really too early to tell.

Whether conscious of it or not, Hannibal presented himself as an enigma, and Will was determined to figure him out.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite tropes ever, and I am excited to explore it more with these characters! I even considered the idea of young student Hannibal and professor Will (equally as appealing!), but young Will seemed to fit this particular story better. This may or may not be based loosely off of the metropolitan area I grew up in...mashed together with a nearby university city. Kudos if you can guess where! (it's probably not as obvious as I think...) 
> 
> Thank you for reading and comments are always appreciated!
> 
> Come join me on [tumblr](http://murdersymphony.tumblr.com/)!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Professor Lecter and Will continue to get to know each other better. Will has some unexpected reactions.

 

 

The man lying on the ground let out a pained groan, then wheezed. His body was possibly broken but Will could not draw his focus from his mutilated face to confirm. The man tried to laugh and coughed on blood, bubbling up from his throat to spill over his lips. He struggled to draw in a decent breath and it was a horrible sound, grating on Will’s ears. He took a step away, then another. A few more steps found him losing his footing and falling to his behind with a huff. When his gaze fixed on the man again, he was attempting to smile, damaged muscles only partially cooperating.

“See?” hissed the man. “See?”

Moments later his expression fell slack and his eyes, ironically, unseeing.

Will awoke with a startled gasp, thankfully only slightly covered in sweat. At least today he would not have to change his sheets. He did not have a morning class on Tuesdays, and normally slept in when given the chance. Glancing at his alarm clock, he was annoyed to see it was only 8:30. So much for extra rest. He climbed out of bed, shrugged on a robe, and walked through the open floor plan to the kitchen. There was a sharp chill in the air which caused him to shiver, even through the plush flannel robe. The days were definitely growing colder and the loft did not have the best insulation. He would have to pull out the space heater soon.

Mechanically, he went through his morning routine of brewing coffee and fixing a simple breakfast. It troubled him deeply that he could not place whether the nightmare was his imagination or a lost memory. He knew who the man was, had known him a time before killing him, still knew his daughter. Garret Jacob Hobbs had been a very disturbing man, truly a monster masquerading as a person. That did not make the fact that Will ended his life any easier to cope with.

By the time he made it to the couch, nursing his second cup of coffee, his nerves had settled. He opened his laptop and checked his email before suddenly recalling he was due to meet Dr. Lecter for lunch. Even though it was only 9:40, he sprang from his seat and rushed back to area designated as his “bedroom”. He pulled his dresser drawers open in a cascading row and frowned at the contents within. Next, he tossed open the doors of his wardrobe and gave it a despairing look after realizing how much flannel it contained. He wanted to wear something classier, but really only had casual attire.

He spent the next thirty minutes picking through his nicer clothing options and laying out various outfits for consideration. Eventually, he settled on dark gray wash jeans, a white dress shirt, and an oxford blue sweater vest, which he was quite frankly surprised he even owned. He gathered the outfit, including boxers and socks, and went to the bathroom. It was a simply designed, new bathroom -same as the kitchen- with brushed metal appliances, dark, honed granite counter tops, and an aluminum and glass panel shower enclosure. It certainly lived up to the apartment’s industrial vibe.

Will took his time getting ready, since he had it to spare. He shaved, showered, brushed his teeth, and even tried to tame his wild hair. Running his hands through it only set the damp curls to sticking out in random directions. It had gotten longer in the last year from neglect, but he had decided at some point he liked it that way. He considered brushing it, but that usually just caused it to fluff out too much. A quick glance around revealed the bottle of expensive hair mousse Beverly had gotten him last Christmas. He had never used it, but now seemed like a perfect opportunity. Smoothing a modest amount of it evenly throughout the strands, he noted its faint, perfumed scent.

When he emerged from the bathroom, ready save his shoes and jacket, he saw it was already past 11. It sent him into a mild panic as he ran around tugging on his boots, nearly tripping on the loose laces, tossing his laptop and needed items into his bag, and finally, fretting over his choice of jacket. The fleece one was too casual, and the parka was too warm for the weather. He settled on his trusty, black leather jacket. It usually managed to land somewhere between casual and stylish, and was one of his favorites to wear.

Uncharacteristically, he wished he had a full length mirror. A quick check in the bathroom mirror met his approval, though he suddenly felt a bit ridiculous having dressed up for what was essentially his therapist. He pushed the thought from his mind since it was too late to change and left in such haste he almost forgot his phone. All of his hurrying paid off and he was a full 13 minutes early, which seemed to please Dr. Lecter.

“You look very nice today, Will,” said Hannibal as he pulled four glass containers out of a tote bag, two medium and two smaller.

“Th-thank you,” stuttered Will, flushing from more than the central heat in the office. That time, he remembered to remove his jacket and hung it neatly on the coat rack by the door.

“Any particular reason you’re dressed up?” asked Hannibal ducking down to a mini fridge against the back wall. He pulled out two bottles of water and set them upon his desk. “Do you have a date later?”

Will let out a bark of a laugh and sat down in a chair after depositing his bag in the other. “No, no, nothing like that,” he said shaking his head. “It’s…been a while since I’ve dated.”

“I see,” said Hannibal with a slightly concerned expression as he sat down. He pulled the lids off of the larger containers and slid one over to Will with a fork.

Some barely discernible emotion passed over Hannibal’s face just before Will caught his gaze, but it disappeared immediately upon eye contact, fleeting and frustrating. Will mumbled a thank you as he took the offered food and mindlessly shoved a piece in his mouth. The flavor of it startled him, blossoming over his tongue, potent and heady. As he continued to chew, layers of flavor emerged like a present being slowly unwrapped. He looked up to Hannibal, surprise plainly displayed, and noticed he was grinning fondly at him.

“What is this?” he asked after swallowing the bite, though he had been tempted to speak with his mouth full.

“Simply boeuf bourguignon,” answered Hannibal, starting to delicately eat his own portion. “Luckily, I started preparing the meat ahead of time, so I was able to bring it for you today. I made a quick trip to the cafeteria to reheat it properly after class. Shame I can’t serve it with wine.”

“This is ridiculously good,” praised Will using a decent amount of self control not to dig into the food ravenously. He could not remember the last time he had had such a delicious, home cooked meal, and never one so delectable.

“Thank you,” said Hannibal quietly, sounding genuinely grateful. “I take great pride in my cooking, but it’s been some time since I’ve shared it with anyone besides Jack.”

“So, are you married?” asked Will curiously. Hannibal’s statement heavily hinted at him being a bachelor and he wore no ring, but Will wanted clarification.

“Not anymore.”

“Oh…sorry,” muttered Will, focusing on his food, which was nearly gone.

“Quite alright,” said Hannibal looking pleased with how quickly Will was consuming his portion. “I’m divorced. For about three years now. It seems we are both single.”

Will blushed and tried to hide his awkward smile. Declaring that they were both single seemed suggestive, but that could just be his imagination running away with him, as it often did. Taking another bite of beef, he peeked through his dark lashes at Hannibal, who seemed unaware of his observation as he continued to eat. The man was definitely handsome to a fault and practically oozed a steady stream of confidence. He held his back straight, wore impressive, tailored suits that Will could only guess at the designer, styled his hair in a manner that was intentionally tousled, and had the most stunning cheekbones he had ever seen on a person in his entire life. And that was not even touching on the subject of his eyes or lips.

“Dr. Lecter…um…where are you from?” asked Will as he speared a pearl onion. He honestly did not feel like learning more about Hannibal’s ex-wife at the moment.

“Lithuania,” he answered glancing up at Will. “Though, I did spend some time as a young adult traveling Europe before I came to the States.”

“That must have been fun,” mused Will.

“It was,” agreed Hannibal smiling once again, no doubt recalling some pleasant memories. “Tell me about your family, Will. That is, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, alright…let’s see…we’ve been here for generations, which I guess is pretty boring,” he started with a smirk. It quickly faded. “My dad is an engineer at the tech plant and my mom…she’s dead. She got cancer when I was young. It took her pretty fast after they found it. I don’t remember much, I was too little. My dad tried his best to be both parents for me but he was always so busy…still is.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your mother,” said Hannibal as he gathered the now empty containers and set to opening the smaller ones. He slid one to Will with a clean fork. “Dessert. Mille-feuille, a French pastry.”

Will tried a bite and let out a pleased hum. “Even though dad doesn’t have a lot of time to spend with me in general, they do give him a decent vacation around Christmas…well, most years at least,” he continued. “We’ve had a boat for as long as I can remember. It’s been through so many outboard motors.” He paused to laugh. “We tow it to Port Huron in the summer, stay out on the water for days. It’s nice.”

“I have a cabin up state,” said Hannibal with a mildly wistful expression. “It’s in a small Alpine village of sorts. I haven’t been there in many years. My wife… _ex-wife_ didn’t like staying in it. Claimed it was too rustic. It’s beautiful there in the winter. Very peaceful, good skiing.”

“I’ve never been any good at downhill skiing, but I was decent at cross-country,” confessed Will.

“With the right teacher, I’m sure you could learn to do it well,” said Hannibal.

Will could feel his cheeks heating up again and hoped it wasn’t noticed. The statement was surely not meant to be suggestive, just as the last one, but he could not help his mind wandering to less savory trains of thought. Could he blame youthful hormones? Perhaps it had merely been too long since he had been interested in a person, romantically or otherwise. It was certainly a welcome change, pulling him out of his obsessive internalization for brief reprieves. He looked down at the empty container realizing in a delayed manner that he had finished eating.

“Is there anything else you would like to talk about, Will?”

Will nearly started vibrating in his seat at the invitation. He wanted to talk about everything with Hannibal. Everything and nothing, as long as they kept interacting. “When are we going to have our next session?” he asked, sounding entirely too eager. There was no way to tell how Hannibal truly interpreted it.

“What do you think would suit your needs best? Weekly appointments? Biweekly?” asked Hannibal, leaning forward in his chair curiously. “I would suggest biweekly.”

“Biweekly sounds good.”

“Then you shall have it,” smiled Hannibal. It seemed he offered smiles very easily to Will. “Since this was not really a session, I would like to see you again on Friday.”

Will could not help his answering smile. “Okay,” he said. “Same time?”

“No. Come in the afternoon,” said Hannibal flipping open an appointment book. “Does 5:30 sound good?”

“Sure. No problem,” said Will watching as Hannibal quickly jotted something on a small piece of paper. Was it an appointment card?

“Here’s my cell number,” he said holding out the paper. “I would hate to hear that you had an episode and I was unavailable to help.”

“Oh,“ was all Will managed to utter as he took the paper and stared at it for a moment, probably looking as ridiculously tongue-tied as he felt.

“Please, don’t hesitate to use it,” assured Hannibal. “I want your therapy to be successful and I believe accessibility is important for achieving this goal.”

Will nodded in acknowledgment before tucking the paper safely into his bag. He glanced at his phone and saw that lunch was close to over. “I suppose I should get going. I have some homework to do before class. Thank you very much for the food, Dr. Lecter. It was amazing.”

“It was my pleasure,” said Hannibal graciously. “If you desire it, I will make you more. You need only ask.”

Will mumbled another thank you as he stood in hopes of covering the slight blush he had been trying to repress since taking the cell phone number. He wanted to reprimand himself for reacting like an overzealous teenager, though he was only just barely out of those years. That aside, one thing about Hannibal was awfully obvious, even from a short acquaintance. He was incredibly charming. It was on a subtle level that Will could appreciate, considering bolder versions of it tended to make him want to roll his eyes and laugh.  
Hannibal’s brand of charisma worked on him very effectively, and he was actually pretty taken back by this knowledge.

Hannibal thoughtfully redirected his attention to his laptop as Will put on his jacket and took up his bag. They exchanged polite farewells and he nearly made it out of the building, headed for the campus’s ostentatious library, before running into a woman with an abundance of red, curly hair. Instinctively, his hands flew out to steady her before she could stumble.

“Sorry…are you okay?” he asked dropping his hands quickly and struggling not to avert his gaze. The woman was not necessarily his type, but she was certainly attractive.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said adjusting a purse strap over her dainty shoulder. Somehow, she looked out of place at the university, too finely dressed and with no bag or briefcase. “I got lost and-hey, aren’t you Will Graham?” she suddenly blurted out, her blue eyes bright and wide.

“Yes?”

“Just the person I’ve been looking for!” the woman exclaimed, drawing the attention of several people around them. “Can you tell me how you felt about the murder of Garret Jacob Hobbs?”

She threw the question out so casually that Will’s stomach turned, and he was certain many people were taking notice of the spectacle being created. “W-what the hell?” he said backing away. “Who are you?”

“The name’s Freddie Lounds,” she promptly answered jutting out a hand. Will merely stared at it, backing up another step as if her touch would burn him. “I’m a blogger for TattleCrime.com and would love to do a story on you. I know that it’s been a little while since the crime took place, but I think my readers would be-“

“Leave me alone,” interrupted Will turning on his heel and fleeing the building. People had definitely noticed their interaction, and had even stopped to listen.

“You know, I can do the story without you!” said Freddie pursuing him outside, her heels clacking loudly on the pavement. “I figured I would give you the chance to tell your version. It only seems polite.”

Will scoffed and increased his pace. He was not even paying attention to what direction he was heading. “This is not polite, this is harassment,” he shot over his shoulder, relieved she seemed unable to catch up with him.

“It most certainly is not! This is my job!” she said with a huff of irritation. “Could you slow down, please?”

“Absolutely not,” said Will already fishing keys from his pocket out of habit. Apparently, his feet were wisely bringing him to his Chevelle.

“The official report said you don’t remember committing the act,” Freddie pressed. “Have you since remembered anything? Do you remember how you did it-“

Will came to an abrupt halt and spun around. Freddie squeaked in surprise as she almost ran into his chest, stopping mere inches from it.

“Listen,” Will ground out glaring down at her. She stared back, fearless and defiant. “I don’t remember anything. I can’t help you with your story, and I would prefer if you never wrote one or spoke to me ever again.”

“I bet it feels awful not being able to remember what happened,” said Freddie with a mildly sympathetic tone. Whether she honestly felt bad for him or was aiming to antagonize was anyone’s guess. “It was such a gruesome death. Bludgeoned to death with a wrench. What a way to go.”

Will frowned and staggered back before turning away. “Please…just leave me alone,” he said, his voice coming out strained and uneven.

“Fine,” acquiesced Freddie with a shrug. “I’ll try again later. See you soon, Mr. Graham.”

As he listened to her heels clicking away, a wave of nausea swept over him, accompanied by a cold sweat. A fine tremor ran through his body and he clenched his fists. He wished it was just anger he felt at that moment, but it was something more complex, something riddled with crippling guilt and regret. Oddly, he did not feel an episode coming on yet, but feared it may soon happen. He needed to get home quickly and forced his feet to carry him to his car.

The episode never came, though he skipped his afternoon class just in case. He emailed his professor and got the makeup work easily enough. Most of his teachers were aware of his situation and did not make a big deal out of an occasional absence. The feeling of guilt persisted, though, swirling in his gut and sending out its poisonous tendrils to every hidden corner of his body and mind. It felt like it was consuming him by the time evening rolled around. He was so desperate for relief he resorted to ransacking his bathroom until he turned up an old bottle of medication. The label read Lorazepam 2mg tablets. He had found them to be too strong for his taste and had not taken many. Now he was tempted to take two at once, though he knew that would be irresponsible and possibly even dangerous.

He swallowed one pill with a glass of water in the kitchen and made his way back to the couch. The TV droned some nature show in the background, gently drawing his attention as he reclined. After shivering for a few minutes, he tugged the thick blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around his body. Heat enveloped him and he sighed contentedly, snuggling into the comfortable cushions. As he watched the nature documentary, the feeling of guilt, and anything remotely resembling worry, gave way to a state of chemically induced euphoria.

Infinitely relieved, Will reached out from under the blanket, hand groping clumsily for his cell phone on the coffee table. He eventually found it and brought it to his face, squinting at the harsh brightness of the screen. No new notifications. It was normal but somehow disappointing. Eyeing his bag lying propped up against a leg of the table, he thought about the special number lying dormant within. He could easily put it to use. Considering his options for what seemed like an eternity, he settled on retrieving the number in the same graceless manner he had gotten his phone, and almost tumbled off the couch in the process.

Will smoothed the paper out reverently and set to carefully adding it to his contacts. He checked it three times to be sure it was correct since he knew his mind was not especially sharp at the moment. Satisfied, he hit the save button and stared at it until his screen went dark. Maybe it was not the best time to be sending texts or attempting calls, though he was fairly tempted. God only knew what nonsense would actually come out of his mouth if he did.

Suddenly feeling very drowsy, he rolled onto his side with a sigh. Not long after, he succumbed to the persistent lull of sleep.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Will was jarred awake by the incessant, annoyingly loud sound of his phone alarm. He searched around blindly until he found the offensive object tucked in-between couch cushions and set it to snooze. He immediately fell back asleep, mind willingly slipping back into a comforting void. Some undefined time later, as he turned over, he thought he heard distant pounding. His sleep addled mind did little else than acknowledge the sound may actually exist, suspended somewhere between reality and dream.

Three loud knocks rang out from seemingly inside his head, finally startling him to full consciousness. Confused and wondering if he had merely imagined the sounds, he took up his phone. The alarm was off and it was fifteen past ten. Had he turned off his alarm without waking? He also woefully noted his morning class was nearly over. Two classes missed in two days over a rude blogger and his inability to cope with his reaction, which had not even been truly that severe. Even worse, it was Dr. Bloom’s class he was missing.

The knocks returned and he sat up with a groan. His head felt heavy and hazy probably due to oversleeping and mild withdrawal from the medication. Absently, he reached to plug his phone in since it had not been charged overnight and surely had a low battery. He stood up, stretched, and yawned before shuffling to the door. Thankfully, he had fallen asleep in pajama pants and a t-shirt so he did not have to get dressed first.

When he flung the door open with a grumbled “what” he fully intended to see Beverly -or maybe even Abigail- standing in the hallway. What he did not expect to see was Dr. Hannibal Lecter standing before him, dressed smartly in semi-casual wear and a dark gray pea coat. In his hands he held a thermos and glass container. Will was so surprised he did not even manage a greeting.

“Good morning, Will,” said Hannibal smoothly. “May I come in?”

“O-of course, sorry,” said Will stepping aside to allow entrance. He was suddenly grateful he had tidied up the previous afternoon in an attempt to distract himself.

“I brought a light breakfast from home,” said Hannibal breezing into the loft and finding the kitchen immediately, which wasn’t difficult considering the open floor plan. He shrugged off his coat and hung it over the back of a nearby chair. “I hope you like dark roast.”

“I do,” said Will passing Hannibal to retrieve a couple ceramic mugs from a cabinet. As an afterthought, he set out the sugar and creamer.

Will stood back and watched amused as Hannibal set to using his kitchen like he belonged there. Somehow, he knew where most of the items he needed were placed, only having to guess twice with the small plates. He fixed the coffee -politely asking Will how he took his- and opened the container to reveal what looked like fancy muffins.

“What are those?” asked Will as he watched Hannibal place one on each plate.

“Blueberry, lemon, and brie scones,” he answered with a smile as he slid the plate and coffee cup to Will.

Will gave an impressed whistle before taking his food and drink to the dining table. Hannibal followed, retrieving the container of scones for seconds if desired, balancing all items expertly as he carried them. Will could not help the pleased sounds that slipped from him as he ate, much to Hannibal’s amusement it seemed. The coffee was excellent, likely some French roast due its extremely bold flavor, and the scone practically melted in his mouth. He was in the middle of devouring his second one before he thought to speak.

“Why are you here?”

“At the insistence of Dr. Bloom and Jack,” said Hannibal as his expression shifted to concern. “They heard of an incident involving a student matching your description yesterday and were worried when you did not show up for Dr. Bloom’s class this morning. Jack wanted to come personally, but was busy. He urged me to come in his stead since I do not have class until the afternoon.”

Will wanted to sink into his seat and disappear. Instead, he forced himself to explain. “The ‘incident’ was a tabloid blogger who confronted me about…about the mur…about last year. It happened right after our appointment, before I could even get out of the building.”

“He meant to exploit your trauma?” said Hannibal after a pause. It was more of a statement than a question.

“ _She_ meant to…yes,” said Will looking out the window briefly. Overcast as usual. “She was talking so loudly…people were staring. She followed me outside…”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” said Hannibal frowning slightly. “I’m sure it stirred up some negative thoughts and emotions. Did you have an episode?”

“No,” said Will shaking his head. “Though, I did feel horrible guilt. It got worse as the night went on. I ended up taking some old prescription medication for it, which is why I overslept.”

“You could have called me,” said Hannibal gently. “I meant it when I said not to hesitate to use my number.”

“I was just overreacting-”

“Nonsense,” interrupted Hannibal. “You were having a perfectly normal reaction and I could have helped talk you through the guilt, at least in the meantime.”

“Does…that even work?” asked Will quietly.

“Absolutely,” said Hannibal, back straightening with confidence. His expression suddenly softened and he leaned forward slightly over the table. “Will, you don’t have to suffer alone anymore. I’m here to share your burden until we can be rid of it.”

The words struck Will deeply, resonating painfully in his heart and calling forth a seldom entertained desire. He blinked a few times, mouth hanging open, then looked away to regain his composure. He doubted that his burden could really be shared, but the offer was the kindest gesture he had received in a long time. Though he was not an optimist, he clung to the sentiment like it was a life preserver, hope blossoming in his chest. It was an overwhelming sensation, which he struggled to process, let alone manage a proper reaction to. He forced his gaze back to Hannibal, unable to directly meet his eyes, and smiled around a nervous laugh. Nothing else coherent would come out.

“We’re going to figure this out,” said Hannibal, his face a picture of perfect determination. “Being skeptical is healthy, but please have faith in my methods.”

“I’m trying,” said Will weakly.

“And that is all I can truly ask,” said Hannibal with an encouraging smile. He took a moment to glance around, coffee cup idly in hand. “This is quite an interesting place you have. It’s surprisingly spacious.”

“Yeah, it used to be a factory. I have no idea what it made,” shrugged Will, grateful for the lighter subject. “They sectioned the lofts out to be pretty large, probably because this area is kind of…desolate. Didn’t expect to rent very many.”

“Perhaps,” said Hannibal. “It doesn’t seem that many people live out this way. It must be peaceful.”

“It is,” said Will. “And quiet. Sometimes too quiet. Easy to forget the city is so close.”

Hannibal nodded before standing, coffee still in hand, and ambling towards one of the large windows. He gazed thoughtfully through the panes, his profile sharp and regal, before taking a sip from the cup. Will drank in the sight of him, standing so casually, his dress shirt and slacks surely tailored to flatter his slender but solid build. He could not help but wonder what Hannibal looked like under those fine clothes. Which muscles would have more definition and which would lie obscured beneath skin? Will’s eye fell shut briefly as he let his imagination wander to what it would feel like to explore those expanses of flesh curiously, taking in every dip and curve.

When he opened his eyes Hannibal was staring at him with a vaguely knowing smile. He shifted in his seat, instantly becoming aware of his aroused state, not completely hard but getting there. His cheeks flushed at the realization. It really was not completely surprising that Hannibal was eliciting that type of response from him. He was an attractive man who was making a genuine attempt to connect with him where most people shied away or gave up quickly. That and Will was young and tragically touch deprived. The perfect storm to stoke his desires. His highly inappropriate desires. He redirected his eyes to the gray sky outside the window, took a few deep breaths in hopes of forcing his body to relax, thought about the homework he had yet to finish.

Hannibal miraculously did not to ask him what was wrong and walked over to the counter where he retrieved the thermos. He came up beside Will -seemingly oblivious to his state- and refilled his mug, causing him to squirm in his seat. The close proximity was not helping the situation and Will could smell him, natural scent faint under a veneer of mild cologne.

“I would love to stay and chat longer, but I have some errands to run before class,” he said gathering up his plate and cup before taking them to the sink. “Do you require your appointment to be moved to a sooner date? I could easily fit you in on Thursday.”

“No, no…Friday is fine,” said Will hating how his voice shook slightly. His body was calming down quickly, and for that he was thankful. In the time it took Hannibal to thoughtfully rinse his dishes in the sink, he felt confident enough to stand and walk to the counter. He cautiously stayed on the opposite side in case his body decided to try for a round two.

“I’m going to leave the scones with you,” he said as he took up his coat and gracefully slipped it on. “Please return the container on Friday.”

“Sure thing and…um…thank you,” said Will sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he moved away from the shield of the counter. “For breakfast, and for coming out here to…to make sure I was okay. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” said Hannibal stopping to simply stare at Will for a moment, some unknown emotion flickering beneath his eyes. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, but please contact me the next time you’re in distress. I promise you, it’s no bother.”

“Okay,” said Will, smiling slightly and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Satisfied with his response, Hannibal nodded and picked up his thermos. Will followed him as he saw himself to the door and opened it, pausing once again. “Goodbye, Will. I’ll see you soon,” he said, and somehow managed to make that sound suggestive as well.

After Hannibal shut the door behind himself, Will let out an uneven breath and scrubbed his hands over his face. Was he really lusting after his psychiatrist? A man easily twenty years his senior? A man he was supposed to have a professional relationship with? A relationship that did not include popping boners while discreetly observing said man. Youthful hormones aside, he felt like a damn cliché. Like a kid with a stupid crush. There was no way Hannibal would even take him seriously if he were to attempt anything.

He had roughly a day and a half to try to purge his mind of unsavory thoughts before he saw Hannibal again. Good to put such a thing to rest before it truly took root.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one month! I'm on fire!! lol (this next to never happens, pardon my excitement) Also, I'm taking my time to build these guys up to intimacy. This is my first slow burn fic and I'm enjoying the pace. These two lend to it so well! There will definitely be smut, though, so I hope you stick around to witness it ;) (I am not that well versed on gourmet food either, but I'm trying;; those scones are from a recipe I found that looked very good!)
> 
> Thank you for reading and comments are always appreciated! 
> 
> Come join me on [tumblr](http://murdersymphony.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares, a Halloween party, and some highly suggestive Will - Hannibal interaction.
> 
> Mind the tags!

 

 

He saw her at a distance, sitting upon a simple chair. The room was cavernous, gaping, stark white without an end in sight. It was bright and dim simultaneously, as if an obscuring film covered his eyes. He approached her slowly. Rushing had no purpose there. Her form came into focus, sitting regally, dressed in a flowing, pure white gown, dark hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back. Her blue eyes settled upon him, shimmering and crystal clear as a smile lit up her face.

She was radiant and beautiful and unscarred.

“Will, how nice to see you,” she spoke. A subtle ripple of energy emitted from her and disturbed the air in a wave, barely seen but certainly felt. “It took you long enough.”

“Hello, Abigail,” he greeted her. His eyes fell to the dark, wooden box she held protectively in her lap. It stood in stark contrast to everything bright around it.

“Do you have the key?” asked Abigail hopefully.

“What?” He idly searched his pockets out of habit and turned up nothing. “No…I don’t.”

“You need to find it,” she urged, leaning forward. “It’s important. What’s locked inside of here is very important.”

“Very important…” Will repeated nodding. “Why?”

“Because you can’t save me if you don’t remember,” she answered cryptically.

He was going to ask her why she needed saving and from whom, but when his eyes trailed up to her face they caught on a red line appearing on the left side of her neck. It gradually split open and started to bleed, slowly trickling at first, then flowing more freely, running down her pale skin to soak into her pristine dress. She clutched the box more tightly and schooled her expression from panic to calm.

“Please,” she pleaded, fear beginning to shine behind her eyes. “He won’t let me live…”

“Who-“

Will trailed off and startled at the sudden appearance of Abigail’s father standing behind her chair. His skin was pallid, blue and purple blotches painted angrily on its surface, the irises of his eyes milky and faded, ghastly and unnatural, and one of his cheekbones sunken in, further adding to his horrid appearance. He leaned over the back of the chair and snaked a hand under Abigail’s jaw grasping it lightly. Slowly, he tilted her head up with a smile, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on Will. The wound on her neck split open more, blood gushing freely in tune with her heart beats.

“If only you had agreed with me,” whispered Garret darkly. “Maybe none of this would have happened.”

Will opened his mouth to speak but found he could force no sound from it. He staggered back a step, angry at his body for refusing to rush to Abigail’s aid.

“You have such potential, Will,” said Garret, unconcerned as his daughter continued to bleed. She started to gasp and struggle weakly and he tightened his grip. “I know your type when I see them.”

“No…” The word slipped out quietly.

“You should join me. I could put your talents to good use,” suggested Garret.

“Stop-“

Garret merely smiled more broadly, which looked atrocious on his ruined face, and yanked back harshly. Abigail let out a sharp gasp that cut off as the laceration tore open across the remainder of her neck. Will could no longer see her eyes, but watched mortified as she tried to scream but only managed a gurgle as thick red fluid seeped from her mouth. There was too much blood, pouring and flowing, staining her dress, spattering the box she yet clutched, pooling on the floor.

When her arms twitched violently and flung the box from her lap, Will finally convinced his body to lurch forward towards her. The distressed cry that left his lips echoed off the walls as he jarred to consciousness sitting upright in his bed. Heaving breaths left his mouth and he was covered in sweat to the point of being drenched. His vision came into focus and he stared blankly into the loft dimly illuminated by predawn light. It took him a moment to realize there was an unfamiliar, dark shape on his couch. With trembling hands, he pushed the sheets and blanket aside to slide out of bed.

The floor under his bare feet was frigid and the cold air caused his damp skin to break out in goosebumps. He ignored the uncomfortable feeling of wet cloth clinging to his flesh as he picked up the baseball bat resting against the wall beside his bed. It really wasn’t terribly uncommon to hear of people breaking and entering in the city, though stealing cars seemed to be more prevalent. Cautiously, he moved forward, grasping the bat in both hands at a ready position, trying to identify who the person might be. He certainly did not want to pummel a friend, or worse yet, his father.

“Do you see yet, Will?” spoke the man suddenly lifting his head.

Will instantly froze in place as he recognized the voice before the face even came completely into view. It was Garret Jacob Hobbs, sitting on his couch and looking as if he had casually stepped out of his dream to have a chat. On instinct, he backed up a step, his shaking hands tightening around the bat. A sinking, sickening feeling spread low in his gut.

Garret stared at him intently with his pale, lifeless eyes, a smirk quirking the corners of his cracked lips up. “You’re starting to,” he said ominously. “Soon…soon you will see your true nature. Just wait a little longer.”

He opened his mouth to say something -anything- in response, but only a weak whine passed his lips. His feet continued to shuffle backwards until he stumbled and fell, landing hard on his ass. The bat clattered loudly on the floor, sound reverberating sharply off the walls in the still quiet of early morning. When Will refocused on the couch, Garret was gone. He remained on the floor a long moment processing what had just happened. The cold seeped into his body and he started to shiver.

Slowly, he rose to his feet and decided a shower was a great idea. He felt far too disturbed and grimy to attempt to get any more sleep. Grabbing nothing else but his robe, he made his way to the bathroom and immediately turned on the water. It heated up quickly and started to fill the room with delightfully warm steam. Will shucked off his sweaty shirt and boxers before ducking under the stream of water with a pleased sigh. The heat permeated his muscles, settling into his core and relaxing his body as well as his mind. After a few minutes, his thoughts returned. One stood out, setting off several internal alarms as it surfaced.

He was having hallucinations. Hallucinations of the man he killed. An unfortunate and deeply troubling development that certainly warranted a call to Dr. Lecter.

Will let out another sigh and grabbed the shampoo. As he scrubbed his hair in vexation, he thought about how he had struggled to put the good doctor from his mind as of late. Two weeks had passed since his first appointment, and they had gotten to know each other better. He had naively assumed he was starting to get a bit better, and had even successfully -and miraculously- avoided another confrontation with Freddie Lounds. Apparently, his PTSD had more tricks up its sleeve, though. He angrily washed the rest of his body, fuming about how unfair his entire life was continuing to be. The only good thing recently was…

Banishing the thought before it took form, Will shook his head, water flinging wildly off the ends of his saturated curls. His mind betrayed him, however, and immediately threw up a fetching image of Hannibal dressed devilishly casual from their last appointment. At one point, he had gotten up from his chair to wander around to the front of the desk and sit on it to continue conversing with Will. The proximity was respectable, but Will had still reacted, blushing like an idiot.

He shut the water off, quickly toweled dry, and pulled on his robe. Irrationally, he considered calling off the therapy or getting someone else to do it. He mournfully regarded himself in the mirror, prodding at the dark circles under his eyes. The nightmares had been robbing him of sleep the last week and were apparently ramping up to the grandiose revelation of a delusional apparition. Fantastic. If he hadn’t considered himself crazy before, he certainly did then.

After dressing, brewing coffee, and deciding to skip breakfast -his stomach still felt mildly queasy- he changed the sheets on his bed and retrieved his phone. The date displaying on the screen surprised him. Monday, October 31st. Halloween. Thankfully, Devil’s Night had passed without incident to the warehouse district he resided within. He had not watched the news recently and it had apparently slipped by unnoticed that year. Ridiculous to think it was a tradition based on literally lighting the city on fire. Turning the alarm off since he was already awake, he saw there were a few texts from the previous night, sent at a fairly late hour.

 

_Beverly Katz: Will, you’re still coming to the party right???_

_Beverly Katz: heeeey nerd, answer me_

_Beverly Katz: Brian wants to know too_

_Beverly Katz: shit you’re prob asleep. text back in the morning plz_

 

“Damnit,” cursed Will under his breath. He had really hoped Beverly would forget she had invited him in the first place. She knew he hated social gatherings of all kinds, and parties were the horrible culmination of all such events.

 

_Will Graham: I’m not going sorry_

 

Returning to his lukewarm coffee, he was startled by his phone’s notification sound going off. It was still relatively early and he was surprised she was even awake, let alone responding.

 

_Beverly Katz: laaaaame, I protest_

_Will Graham: protest all you want. you know I hate parties_

_Beverly Katz: oh come on! it’s going to be a small party, very personal, comfy, cozy, no costume required, very casual…I can keep going_

_Will Graham: please don’t_

_Beverly Katz: please come! I’ll stay with you the entire time and guard you. I’ll even come and pick you up so you can get hammered! you deserve a chance to let go and relax. you never know, you may even have some fun?_

 

Will considered her offer. He wasn’t sure he believed that she would stick with him all night, but the opportunity to do some classic underage college drinking sounded appealing. Really appealing consider recent events.

 

_Will Graham: fine. when are going to pick me up?_

_Beverly Katz: yessss!!! aweome!! how about 7?_

_Will Graham: sounds good. see you later then_

 

It was probably a terrible idea, but Will found himself a little excited at the prospect of acting like a normal, social university student. He figured he would regret it the next morning, but resolved to get as drunk as possible without throwing up. Thankfully, he was no stranger to alcohol since his dad was not particularly strict in regards to its consumption. All he asked was that Will not drive drunk and Beverly driving solved that problem.

He allowed himself a small smile while finishing some homework before his morning English class.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He checked his phone for the third time in ten minutes, then set to fidgeting as he waited. The day had passed quickly, and Will had decided to postpone his call to Dr. Lecter. He was positive that Hannibal would want to see him very soon if not that very afternoon after hearing of the hallucination. That did not seem productive to his planned drinking session. Calling tomorrow would be fine, he rationalized. Hannibal may even be impressed that Will chose to attempt normal socializing. He winced at the thought of being urged to do it more often.

A horn honked obnoxiously in successive bursts outside and he practically vaulted off of the sofa. Peering out a window confirmed that Beverly was indeed outside, sitting in her red Mustang, and apparently unwilling to enter the building to get him. He laughed, waving at her as she climbed out of the car to give him a thumbs up, and set to turning off lights before grabbing his leather jacket. The evening was cold but he wasn’t ready to bust out the warmer coats yet.

“Ready to party, Mr. Graham?” asked Beverly waggling her eyebrows as Will climbed into the passenger seat.

“I can’t believe you drive a Ford,” said Will scrunching up his nose as if the vehicle personally offended him.

“Oh, shut up, you GM elitist,” retorted Beverly firing up the engine and revving it a couple times for effect. “Mustangs are cool and you’ve been brainwashed by your dad since birth.”

“Mustangs are a dime a dozen. Classic GM muscle cars are cool,” said Will cheekily.

“Well, we’re not all mechanics,” she said easing into the empty road and peeling out down the road much too fast. “That rust bucket of yours probably isn’t too cool when it randomly decides to break down.”

“You leave Norma Jean out of this,” said Will, suddenly realizing that Beverly was wearing cat ears and some subtle cat themed makeup. “She’s a good car.”

Beverly snorted. “Sure, okay. Still waiting for the day you turn her into a Marilyn.”

“I will,” he said with a smile. He had missed their banter. “Slowly but surely, I’ll transform her into a show star.”

“It’s good to have goals,” she said with a smirk.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, they pulled up to the Zeller residence and Will noted it was in a nice, upper middle class neighborhood. Beverly plucked two six packs of PBR out of her trunk, shoving one into Will’s hands.

“This is Zeller’s parent’s house, right?” he asked as they walked to the front door. “Are they okay with this?”

“Good lord, no!” laughed Beverly. “They’re out of town on business. Won’t be back until Thanksgiving.”

Will nodded as they walked up to the front door of the large, two-storey colonial style house. Before Beverly could even attempt to knock, the door was suddenly swung open to reveal Brian Zeller himself dressed in sea green scrubs, a lab coat, splatters of blood, and a stethoscope hanging around his neck.

“The guests of honor have arrived!” declared Brian dramatically bowing before them, then sweeping an arm back towards the house in a grand gesture of welcome.

Beverly laughed and passed the beer to him as she entered the house. “We come bearing gifts, o great…doctor?”

“Crazy surgeon, to be precise, my dear kitten,” said Brian with a crooked smile. “Thanks for the shitty hipster beer. Come on, get in here, it’s cold out there!” he continued yanking Will into the house by the sleeve of his jacket.

The trio walked through the house led by Brian. It looked comfortable and well lived in with a few guests already wandering around. They stopped in the kitchen to deposit the PBR into a convenient cooler.

“We have three kegs, various canned and bottled beer, and a fine variety of hard liquor for your responsible consumption tonight,” said Brain pointing to each alcohol group as he listed them off. “I think Jimmy brought daiquiri and margarita mix too if that’s the way you want to roll.”

“I most certainly did,” said Jimmy Price entering the kitchen, beer already in hand. He was dressed as a classic vampire, cape flowing behind him. “People appreciate variety and not everyone wants beer and straight liquor. I also took the liberty of assuring there was finger food available tonight. Never good to drink on an empty stomach.”

“Isn’t he just the best?” said Brian slinging an arm around Jimmy’s shoulders. The two had been friends since childhood and were a shining example of partners in crime in most endeavors they undertook. They often played the old married couple act, mainly to amuse their peers and poke fun at each other. “I don’t know where I’d be without him and his generous, thoughtful nature.”

“Oh, stop, you’ll make me blush,” said Jimmy coyly.

“Anyways, I noticed you still don’t have drinks in your hands!” said Brian in mock disappointment. “Pick your poison, my friends!”

Will decided on a glass -or rather plastic cup- of scotch to start out the festivities, while Beverly went with a few shots of vodka, then a can of PBR. The three of them snacked and drank in the living room leisurely chatting, and Will would dare say he was having a good time after all. Brian occasionally rose and left to let more and more guests into the house as the first hour passed. Before Will knew it, nearly two hours had flown by, he was definitely beyond tipsy, and the house was teeming with much more people than a small party warranted. He had been growing more relaxed and less inhibited in conversation until he noticed the room filling with unfamiliar faces. A few he recognized from high school or university, but a large number were strangers.

At the very least, Beverly had made good on her promise to stay with him.

He glanced to his left, and in a staggeringly appropriate moment of Murphy’s Law, Beverly and Brian were gone. They had somehow managed to completely vanish in the span of a few seconds. Or at least Will thought a few seconds had passed. He wasn’t really sure. Jimmy was still present, but actively engaged with another guest. Will mumbled a curse and stood up to search for her. What other choice did he have? She was his ride and he was reaching his social limits.

Two steps found him stumbling and abruptly realizing how drunk he had gotten as the floor nearly rushed up to claim him. A random guy caught him by the arm and steadied him with a good natured laugh. Panic bubbled up in his chest as he jerked his arm away and swayed with the sudden movement. Will lurched forward, taking uneven steps out of the living room, startling at the amount of people surrounding him, pressing in and around his body like fluid. For the most part, they seemed to ignore him and he couldn’t recognize any of their blurry faces.

He wandered around the ground floor weakly calling Beverly’s name to no avail. Eventually, he happened upon a group sitting in what he assumed to be a den. The room was dark and full of fragrant smoke with some type of ambient music playing from a phone attached to a portable speaker. Cautiously entering, he squinted at the people present and then tripped over someone’s foot, unceremoniously landing on a couch, nearly on a man’s lap. The man did not seem to mind, laughing jovially and patting him on the back.

“You look like you could use some of this,” he said handing Will what he immediately recognized as a joint.

“N-no thanks,” stuttered Will.

“Come on, dude,” said the man, urging Will to take the joint and almost dropping it in his lap in the process. “You look pretty freaked out. It’ll calm your nerves. Just take a couple hits and you’ll mellow.”

Inebriated and in a highly suggestive state, Will caved into the peer pressure and dutifully took two hits. The people around him cheered briefly and he smiled nervously in return before passing the joint back to the man. He caught clips of conversations going on in the room as the minutes ticked by and he forgot what he had been originally trying to accomplish. Somehow he ended up taking two more hits as the joint was passed around.

“Do you feel any better?” asked Will’s new anonymous friend curiously.

“Maybe a little,” answered Will. The panic had ebbed away in a haze of marijuana smoke, but he still felt an underlying current of general foreboding.

“Good! Great! I’m glad,” said the man happily clapping his hand on Will’s shoulder. He turned to continue his conversation with the girl to his right afterwards.

Another undefined stretch of time elapsed before he remembered what he had originally set out to do. Without offering a thank you, he pushed himself to his feet and was assaulted with a wave of dizziness. A few people helped keep him steady on his feet and he was far too intoxicated and stoned to be bothered by it. He felt like he was practically floating by the time he made it out of the room. Bracing against the wall he looked left then right, now only idly searching for Beverly. One face unexpectedly came into focus in the distance, causing his blood to suddenly run cold.

Garret Jacob Hobbs was standing, tall pale and freakish, still among the bustling guests.

Underneath the jacket he had never bothered to take off, Will broke into a cold sweat as his stomach sunk and nausea threatened to consume him. The only thing keeping him from throwing up on the spot was the fact he was so stoned, which was graciously keeping his stomach at a mild churn instead of full-on roil. His body and mind rapidly carded through the fight, flight, or freeze reactions.

Suddenly nothing mattered but getting away from Garret. He spun around, nearly fell, staggered to the foyer and out the front door. He was at the sidewalk before he glanced back at the house, horrified to see Garret now standing on the porch staring at him with eerie determination. This time he did fall to the ground, shocked by the cold pavement under his bare hands. He wasted no time in scrambling to his feet and taking off down the sidewalk as quickly as he could manage.

He had no idea where he was going and frankly did not care. His breath left his mouth in great, visible puffs and he struggled not to hyperventilate. His footing was unsteady and clumsy but he did not fall as he kept a brisk pace, constantly glancing over his shoulder to see if Garret was following. The path before him seemed to sharpen as he continued to walk, and the rest of the world faded into an inconsequential blur.

The houses were completely foreign and the cold was starting to seep into his body in earnest by the time he slowed down and stopped. Whether he was shivering from the weather or fear, he could not tell. He wrapped his arms around himself and looked around confused. Nothing was coming into focus properly, the surrounding structures hazy and looming ominously. His started to breathe more rapidly and knew he was on the verge of either a panic attack or an episode. Tears started to gather in his eyes as his current disadvantage sunk in. He felt lonely, scared, and foolish.

Before the panic started to truly settle in, he thought to fish his phone out of his pocket. Maybe he could text Beverly and pray that she would somehow find him. Unlocking the screen, he blinked away tears falling from his eyes, squinting at the device held mere inches from his face. His fingers were numb and having trouble finding the right buttons, causing him to let out a desperate whine. He needed to calm down. He needed to-

“Will? Is that you?”

Will pivoted his head towards the familiar voice like it was a beacon in the dark. He nearly thought he was hallucinating again when he recognized the form standing nearby to be none other than Hannibal himself. He stood at the end of a walkway staring at Will with a mixture of surprise and concern. Will let out a sob and sunk to his knees, spurring Hannibal into action. He jogging over to Will and knelt down beside him.

“Are you okay? Can you stand?” He placed a hand tentatively on Will’s back.

Will nodded, unable to stop the sobs escaping him as Hannibal hoisted him to his feet with ease. Hannibal mumbled soothing phrases as he helped him walk towards a house and up the porch stairs. He was far too relieved to feel embarrassed. When they entered the foyer, Will nearly collapsed as delightful heat overwhelmed his every sense. Hannibal, to his credit, held him up relatively well, manipulating his boneless yet compliant body to tug off his jacket and hang it on a coat rack. Next he somehow managed to deftly remove both their sets of shoes as he continued to hold Will. It was impressive to behold. Satisfied, Hannibal guiding him slowly to the living room and deposited him carefully on a large couch.

“I’ll be right back,” he said walking out of the room.

Will’s body give one last violent shudder before finally accepting the warmth and relaxing into the comfortable cushions. After wiping at his damp eyes, he looked around the house - _Hannibal’s house_ \- trying to observe his surroundings and commit everything to memory. It was proving quite difficult since his mind noted each object his eyes passed over and immediately disregarded it.

He glanced back and jolted at the sight of Hannibal suddenly kneeling before him. He nudged Will forward enough to drape a blanket over his shoulders and wrapped it loosely around him. Easing Will back against the cushion, he turned around to retrieve a ceramic mug before sitting next to him.

“Green tea,” he said handing the mug to Will and not letting go until he was sure Will could hold it properly. “Drink.”

Will sipped the offered tea as carefully as his lack of coordination would allow. It felt entirely too hot, but he drank it anyways. The heat slowly permeated him from the inside out lulling him into a drowsy state. He struggled to keep his eyes open, wanting to stay awake and spend more time luxuriating in the rare opportunity that had presented itself. Turning his body sideways to observe Hannibal, he nearly spilled the tea which Hannibal quickly caught and took away.

“I would ask you what happened,” said Hannibal as he placed the mug on the coffee table, “but I’m fairly certain I would not get a very coherent answer.”

“I…had a bad day so I decided to get drunk,” said Will, amazed his speech was only slightly slurred. “I somehow got stoned too…it was a big party…”

“You could have called me at any point you were struggling,” said Hannibal with a touch of exasperation in his tone. “How many times do I have to tell you that before you take advantage of it?”

“I considered calling,” said Will, suddenly aware having any kind of conversation with Hannibal in his inebriated state may be tragically revealing. He made a mental note to watch what he said but knew it was practically useless. “I just don’t want to be a bother.”

“You are not a bother to me at all,” assured Hannibal adjusting himself to face Will and reaching out a hand.

Will watched as Hannibal’s hand moved towards him and rested firmly against his forehead. The hand was warm and the unexpected touch sent tiny sparks of pleasure shooting down his spine. Will let his half-lidded eyes slip shut and leaned into the touch with a pleased sigh. All of his carefully constructed barriers had been washed away by various drugs and Will could swear he sensed some other deeper intent in the action. He wondered if it the notion was truly his empathy or merely wishful thinking.

“Doesn’t feel like you have a fever,” mumbled Hannibal letting his hand linger a bit longer than necessary before withdrawing it. “I can drive you home. Did you leave your car-“

“No!” snapped Will shooting more upright and grabbing Hannibal’s hand before he could stop himself. “Please, don’t make me go back there tonight…I don’t want to be alone. Not with him around.”

“With whom around?” asked Hannibal.

It was in a delayed manner that Will realized he was leaning incredibly close to Hannibal, their faces mere inches from each other. His depth perception and balance were definitely skewed. The polite thing to do would be to back away, give the man back his personal space, and apologize. But Will was not feeling particularly polite in that moment. Swaying slightly, he braced his hands on Hannibal’s chest to steady himself, noting the slight hitch in his breath as he did so. It was an encouraging reaction, though he was content to let his eyes wander over Hannibal’s face before settling pointedly on his mouth.

“Will…”

“You have really nice lips,” said Will, breathy and intense. He scooted his body slightly closer to Hannibal on instinct and the blanket slipped from his shoulders. He wasn’t entirely sure why he wasn’t draped all over the man like he wanted to be. Some tiny, desperate thread of hesitance must have survived his intoxication.

“Will, you’re drunk,” said Hannibal raising his hands. Instead of pushing the young man away, he gently curled his fingers around Will’s upper arms, locking him in place. His expression was almost unreadable, but his eyes spoke volumes, and Will drank in each subtle emotion greedily.

“I am, but I know what I’m doing.”

At that declaration, Hannibal smiled and shook his head briefly. “I’m sure you do,” he said, moving one hand to delicately trace the puffy skin under one of Will’s eyes. “You’re not getting enough sleep. Have the nightmares been bad recently?”

Will simply nodded in response. He did not want to ruin the moment by confessing he was having hallucinations. They had not even truly discussed the incident in therapy yet, and frankly he was not looking forward to broaching the subject. The moment he was currently ensnared in was all he wanted to focus on, brimming with inappropriate possibilities. Where he had fully expected to see rejection in Hannibal he surprisingly witnessed something bordering on acceptance. He searched deeper in Hannibal’s eyes, unwavering and guarded even if they appeared superficially open. What he sensed punched the breath out him and he struggled to regulate it once again. A heady wave of desire washed over him and he shivered.

“You’re…you’re okay with this,” he whispered in disbelief.

“Okay with what, Will?” Hannibal remained relatively still even as one of his hands roamed to rest on the junction of Will’s neck and shoulder.

“With my…my… “

Will trailed off unable to verbally confess his feelings. He briefly entertained the thought of kissing Hannibal to convey his thoughts through action, but his hesitance ultimately won out. His hands twitched on Hannibal’s chest bringing his attention to the defined muscles hidden beneath the sweater he wore. Curiosity got the best of him and he flexed his fingers over the pectorals, eyes fixed on his hands as they explored.

“Are you always this tactile when inebriated?” asked Hannibal sounding amused.

Will lifted his head, keenly aware of how his hair brushed against Hannibal as he did so. Their faces were even impossibly closer than before, and Will continued to idly grope at Hannibal’s chest awed by the affectionate expression he was receiving. None of what he was doing seemed to be perturbing Hannibal in the least. It was such an unexpected and refreshing reaction that it made Will giddy.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, then licked his lips. Reluctantly, he withdrew his hands onto his lap, gasping softly as they laid over the erection he had previously failed to notice. Of course he was aroused. How could he not be given the circumstances? He squirmed slightly, trying to conceal it.

“Quite alright,” said Hannibal withdrawing his own hands and leaning back marginally. Will immediately mourned the loss of contact even though they were still so close. “Touch is important for comfort, and you are obviously in need of comfort tonight.”

Though he was sure the statement was meant to be platonically soothing, Will thought it sounded outrageously suggestive. Then again, his ability to gauge what was appropriate or not was hopelessly impaired. “Then…can I touch you again?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, of course,” said Hannibal with a small smile.

Abandoning his effort to conceal his arousal, Will reached out and placed his hands on Hannibal’s chest again. They seemed to be drawn there, but only lingered briefly before slowly sliding up and around to Hannibal’s shoulders. He stopped, glancing up to Hannibal’s face. The expression he was met with was controlled, flat, placid, but the eyes burned, lit from behind with some primal light and appearing more red than brown. Will leaned forward slightly, amazed when Hannibal did not make any move to evade him. One of Will’s hands moved to curl around the back of his neck, molding to the skin but not yet tugging.

“Aren’t you going to stop me?” he said curiously. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but his filter wasn’t working very well.

“Why would I do that?” said Hannibal. “Are you planning to do something…inappropriate?”

“Maybe,” confessed Will leaning in even further. Their faces were so close he could feel Hannibal’s breath ghosting across his skin.

The moment seemed to stretch on for a while, during which both of them remained still, breathing the same air, taking in each other’s appearance languidly. Will rapidly searched his hazy mind for reasons not to lean forward the infinitesimal distance it would take to connect their lips. Of course, it immediately tossed up the completely valid issue of inappropriateness, and next the promise of regret. He countered them with the fact he was drunk -plus stoned- and that offered him a perfect excuse for stupid behavior. Without any more thought one way or the other, Will tilted his head forward.

Will’s ringtone suddenly cut through the silence causing him to startle and halt with a gasp just before their lips brushed. He did not remember shoving his cell phone into his flannel pocket, but apparently he had since it was now loudly announcing its presence. Unable to ignore it, he jerked back with a frustrated groan and fumbled it out of his pocket.

“Will! Where are you?! Are you okay?!” came Beverly’s anxious voice as soon as Will brought the phone to his ear.

“I’m fine,” he said with a sigh. He wanted to be more irritated with her, but honestly was touched by her panicked concern. “Something…happened and I took off. Um…you’re not going to believe this, but Dr. Lecter found me. I’m with him now.”

“Oh, thank god,” said Beverly dramatically. “I was only gone for a few minutes and when I came back you were missing. I couldn’t find you and some people said they saw you take off. I went outside but you were nowhere to be seen, so then I-“

Her words ran on and faded into the background when Will looked back to Hannibal. He was regarding him with amused curiosity, head now propped casually on the hand of his arm resting on the back of the couch. He reached the other one out expectantly and Will handed the phone over automatically.

“Hello, Will’s kindly concerned friend, this is Dr. Hannibal Lecter,” he said after placing the phone to his ear. “Please, set your mind at ease. I will be delivering him home soon, safe and sound.”

Hannibal was silent a minute while Beverly’s loud thanks drifted through the device. He politely offered a “no problem, take care” and disconnected the call before returning Will’s phone with a smirk.

“Are…are you really going to take me home?” asked Will frowning and unable to meet Hannibal’s eyes.

“Of course not,” he answered, causing Will to glance up. “You asked me not to and I will honor that request. I just figured we should keep this private considering the circumstances. Don’t you agree?”

“Y-yeah, of course,” said Will sagging against the couch and absently brushing dark curls away from his eyes. He did not want anything obscuring his current view. He smiled lazily and Hannibal returned it readily.

“Good boy,” said Hannibal. “Come on, I’ll show you to the guest bedroom.”

Will nodded and watched as Hannibal stood and once again helped him to his feet. The dizziness returned and he fell gracelessly against Hannibal who easily caught him. He wound an arm around Will’s waist and started to slowly walk them through the house and up the stairs. Even though he was fairly certain he could walk on his own, he allowed Hannibal to support him to the room. The feel of his strong hand grasping his torso set off a fresh wave of lustful desire, and Will could not help the shudder that ran through his body as his nerves tingled in its wake.

Much too soon for his liking, they arrived at the bedroom and Hannibal sat him on the edge of the bed. He set to turning down the comforter and sheets before returning his attention to Will, who wanted nothing more than to grab Hannibal by the sweater and topple them both onto the soft mattress. Unfortunately, his intoxication was working against him and his body felt impossibly heavy and ready to collapse.

“Goodnight, Will,” said Hannibal with his characteristic small smile. His eyes gleamed with gentle affection, no doubt in response to the dopey expression Will was probably displaying. “I’ll see you in the morning. If you need anything, my room is the next door down and the bathroom is across the hall.”

Hannibal turned off the light and shut the door on his way out. After clumsily shucking off his flannel and jeans, Will crawled across the bed and under the covers. He let out a content sigh and snuggled into the soft sheets. His body was still in a woeful state of arousal, but he lacked the energy to relieve it. Shifting minimally and closing his eyes, he immediately fell asleep.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had most of this done since before Halloween...then life happened and I wasn't able to finish it until last night. But! I hope you enjoyed it! I reeeeally wanted to write that kiss scene in uuugh lol, but I told myself to relax and write a proper slow burn. It was difficult, though I was pretty stoked to write some truly suggestive and questionable interactions between them. The first of many hehehe >:) 
> 
> Oh! and GM = General Motors (which is Will's car's brand as a Chevrolet Chevelle) 
> 
> Thank you for reading and comments are always appreciated!
> 
> Come join me on [tumblr](http://murdersymphony.tumblr.com/)!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little dash of smut and growing tension. Will finally starts his therapy in earnest. 
> 
> This chapter starts to earn the rating.

 

 

Someone was touching him. He could not see the person since he was lying prone with his face smashed into a fluffy pillow. The thought vaguely crossed his mind that he should look over his shoulder and see who it was, but he was too tired and curious to give away his conscious state just yet. Slowly, the covers were drawn back exposing his naked skin to the cool air. He did not remember taking off his clothes during the night but the slight chill biting against his flesh suggested otherwise. A single hand returned, ghosting from his shoulder blade down to the dip of his lower back and traveling upwards again.

The light touches continued for a moment before the hand flattened and ran over the expanse of his back. It wandered over his shoulder and triceps, traveled back down his spine, veered to the side and moved over the hill of a buttock, pausing briefly to grasp it. Will’s breath caught in his throat and the lazily building desire surged into full arousal. He felt breath against his skin, then the brush of lips. He could not help the low moan that escaped his mouth, mostly muffled by the pillow.

“Such an attractive young man,” hummed a familiar voice nearly against his body.

Will finally lifted his head minimally and twisted his torso to confirm his visitor’s identity. The room was dark. Light filtering through the curtains from a street lamp was the only thing preventing a complete blackout. The sharp planes of Hannibal’s face were visible enough, as was the glittering of his dark eyes. His hand gripped Will’s shoulder and gently turned him over onto his back. He braced himself on an arm and leaned down, fringe hanging over one eye and obscuring it as he titled his head. The other hand moved to Will’s chest and idly caressed it as it rose and fell with his increasing breath rate.

“So beautiful,” whispered Hannibal. “So responsive…”

Tilting his chin up, Will strained to bring their mouths together in response, but Hannibal pulled away just enough to avoid the contact.

“Ah, youthful impatience,” said Hannibal as his hand starting to gradually move down Will’s chest. “Are not all good things in life worth waiting for?”

“Not necessarily,” said Will, barely able to get the words out coherently as Hannibal traced the fine line of hair from his navel down to his pelvis. He stopped just short of his erection and skirted to the side and over a hip. “Please…”

“How polite,” praised Hannibal, leaning down to reward Will with a few brief kisses to his neck. “Please what, Will? Tell me what to do,” he whispered hotly into his ear.

Will’s head was swimming with possibilities that he was unable to vocalize, yet his body was completely willing to demonstrate. Somehow he figured Hannibal would not appreciate him being so forward without asking properly, but he spurred into action anyways. With both hands he groped for Hannibal’s head, lifting it and framing it before bringing their lips together. The first brush of soft skin was chaste yet electric, and Will moved his lips slowly against Hannibal’s, marveling at how they offered no resistance. Hannibal seemed to read and respond to Will’s every movement, tilting his head to the side and opening his mouth wider to slip his tongue into Will’s mouth. Will twined his tongue eagerly around its intruder, sucking on it before it retreated briefly only to return and delve deeper.

They continued to kiss for what seemed like a blissful eternity, every second passing with increasing enthusiasm. Will’s hands eventually travelled down Hannibal’s back to grasp at the cotton shirt he wore, desperate to pull him closer, though meeting resistance. He shifted uncomfortably and was about to protest when Hannibal’s hand finally settled over his neglected cock gently but firmly.

Will gasped sharply, tearing his mouth away from Hannibal’s in a delicious mixture of shock and relief. He rocked into that warm hand with a low moan and tossed his head back, shutting his eyes as pleasure rippled through his body.

“Will,” said Hannibal, his tone low and commanding. “Look at me.”

He readily obeyed, snapping his eyes open and tilting his head forward, startled when he was greeted with nothing but empty space above him. The room was considerably brighter, though still dim from the closed curtains, and Will was alone. Alone and painfully aroused.

It took him a moment to remember where he was and how he had gotten there. He soon recalled he was in Hannibal’s guest bedroom, nestled comfortably in soft sheets under a warm comforter. And he was there because he had been three sheets to the wind wandering around in the freezing cold post episode, hopelessly lost. The man had miraculously rescued him, warmed him, humored him, and nearly let Will kiss him. At that realization, his morning wood gave an interested twitch and his dream resurfaced.

Palming himself through his boxers, he shifted and groaned, half out of pleasure and half from the slight throbbing pain in his head. As hangovers went, that one was not too severe, plus he had youth and a decent alcohol tolerance level on his side. He idly rubbed his erection through the cloth wondering if he could finish himself off quickly and how he would clean it up. He also considered just letting his body calm down, but as tragically backed up as he was and fueled by his naughty dream, he thought that may not be a good idea. Knowing his luck, he would just pop another embarrassing boner the second he laid eyes on Hannibal again.

After sitting up, Will gingerly climbed out of bed, gathering up his clothes and phone, which still sat securely in his flannel pocket. The bedroom did not seem like the ideal place to attempt his quick release since he felt rude locking the door -if it even had one- and was afraid he would make a mess. He recalled Hannibal telling him the bathroom was across the hallway, so he wadded his shirt and pants into a ball and settled them discreetly in front of his crotch. The perfect cover in case he was encountered during his journey to privacy. The incredibly short walk to the bathroom was awkward but uneventful, though he noticed that Hannibal’s bedroom door was open and had to force himself not to wander over to it and snoop.

Will took a moment to admire the spacious and obviously renovated bathroom, done in a monotone color scheme, before setting his clothes on the marble countertop. He fished his phone out of the flannel, noting it still had a decent amount of battery left and the time was respectably early. He set it down on his clothes and shoved the wrinkled pile of fabric away. Without any preamble, he shucked off his boxers and took his dick in hand, trying to stifle the satisfied sound that slipped out. Not wanting to waste too much time lest he raise suspicion, he braced himself against the counter and set a fast pace, hand sliding quickly across his aching length.

When he closed his eyes, the attempted kiss was the first scene to resurface, and he vividly remembered the way Hannibal looked and smelled, so close, so enticing, even through a haze of alcohol and marijuana. The dream surfaced next, chasing reality away in favor of fantasy. Will’s nerves came alive in waves as he felt those lips once again sliding and moving across his own, that soft velvet tongue dipping into his mouth and trying to possess him, consume him, that lovely, long fingered hand curling around his cock with confidence.

His orgasm came on suddenly, which wasn’t really much of a surprise, but the intensity of it certainly knocked the wind out of him. Apparently, genuine interest was a hell of an aphrodisiac considering his lackluster responses to his “recent” partners. His legs shook and his hand faltered as his release surged out of him in hot rivulets, striping across the countertop and even a bit of the mirror. Willing himself to remain standing, he struggled to catch his breath and relax his hammering heart.

After a few minutes passed, he glanced up at his reflection in the mirror and would have blushed if he weren’t already flushed a healthy shade of pink. His hair was disheveled, brow sweaty, body obviously flushed from arousal, and chest heaving from exertion, not to mention the mess of fluids he had anointed the counter with. First he thought he produced an impressive amount of come -and distance- and second he felt vaguely guilty that he had just jerked off in Hannibal’s bathroom. He tried to tell himself it was for the greater good as he cleaned the counter with soapy Kleenex, cursing softly as it took him several attempts to adequately shine the mirror. Satisfied, in more ways than one, he wiped himself off, disposed of the evidence along with his morning piss, and washed his face before redressing. He didn’t bother much with his hair since it seemed intent on staying tousled.

Stepping into the hallway, he wasn’t quite sure where to go, but walked down the stairs with purpose anyways. The smell of food and sounds of cooking hit him as he reached the ground floor, which he followed to the kitchen and the promise of breakfast. Hannibal stood behind an island with a breakfast bar, spatula in hand and apron tied around his waist. It was endearingly domestic and Will could not help but smile at the sight. As he approached the bar he saw a glass of water, two round orange tablets, and a hot cup of coffee awaiting him.

“Good morning, Will,” said Hannibal with a characteristic soft smile. “I trust you slept well?”

“I did,” said Will sitting on a stool. He picked up the pills and swallowed them without even asking what they were. His best guess was ibuprofen. After chugging the glass of water, he set to fixing his cup of coffee since the sugar and creamer were thoughtfully nearby.

“I’m glad you were able to get some rest,” said Hannibal turning to the stove and retrieving a cast iron skillet. He quickly doled out two portions of scrambled eggs and sausage links onto waiting plates before sliding one over to Will. “I hope you have an appetite after last night’s extracurricular activities.”

Will laughed nervously as he picked up a fork. “Th-thanks, I feel okay. I have a decent tolerance level, not that I drink often…or smoke weed for that matter.”

“I would not judge you harshly if you did,” said Hannibal as he placed the skillet in the sink. Afterwards, he removed his apron, poured himself a coffee, and sat down beside Will.

They ate in companionable silence until most of the food was gone. Will tried valiantly not to stare at Hannibal, which probably came across more as ignoring him. He did not trust his reaction given recent events, and certainly did not feel like addressing their attempted kiss quite yet. When Hannibal stood to pour himself more coffee, Will startled, nearly dropping his fork. Hannibal acted as if he had not noticed and kindly refilled his cup as well.

“Do you have a morning class you need to be at?” he asked as he poured a minute amount of creamer into his mug and stirred it briskly.

“No,” answered Will pushing the remainder of the eggs around on his plate. He felt an impending “talk” coming. “No class until the afternoon. What about you?”

“No morning class for me either,” said Hannibal fixing his gaze intently on Will, who only managed to return the contact peripherally. “Will, what happened last night that had you so visibly disturbed? You mentioned you ‘don’t want to be alone, not with him around’. What is the meaning of that?”

Will fidgeted with his fork, hopelessly stalling, took another meaningless sip of his coffee, stared at the wall, anything to avoid responding. When Hannibal called his name after a moment, he flinched, looking back to him but still unable to meet his eyes. He watched as Hannibal slowly walked around the island, stopping only when he was well within Will’s personal space.

“Will…you know you can trust me, right?” said Hannibal, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’m not here to pass judgment or condemn you. I only want to help you conquer the demons that so clearly haunt you.”

It was such a poetic declaration that Will almost laughed. He appreciated the intention but was not used to being spoken to in such a manner. At the very least, it deserved a response. “I…um…I saw him,” he stuttered, then swallowed, eyes skittering over various objects. “I saw…Garret Jacob Hobbs. He was…sitting on my couch yesterday morning and…talking to me-“

The hand on Will’s shoulder tensed briefly before relaxing and massaging gently at the joint. “Was that the only time you had a hallucination of this man?” he asked, voiced trained into a clinical tone.

Will shook his head sheepishly. “I saw him at the party too,” he said quietly. “That’s…how I ended up lost in the street. I ran away. He didn’t follow.”

Finally glancing up to see Hannibal’s reaction, Will only caught the side of his face as he abruptly released his shoulder and grabbed the plates, moving to the sink to rinse them. Much to his surprise, the man had looked downright contrite. When he turned to face Will once again, his expression still bore a semblance of sadness but more noticeably, contemplation.

“I know this is not what you want to hear,” he began staring thoughtfully at the counter before raising his eyes slowly to Will’s, who met them straight on in his awe, “but we need to progress with your therapy. We need to start talking about what happened.”

Will made a sound of protest that died in his throat as Hannibal frowned in concern. He looked down, blinking rapidly, trying to quell the rising panic gripping his heart, chilling his blood. His hands were trembling and he berated himself for his reaction. He knew that it was going to happen eventually. He just figured he had more time.

“Will,” said Hannibal suddenly at his side again, causing him to jump. “I understand this is incredibly difficult and I want you to know that I’m here for you whenever you need me.”

He stared at Hannibal wide-eyed, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. He blinked a few times, mortified when tears slid down his cheeks. More than anything he wanted to turn and flee, but his body stubbornly refused to cooperate. He screwed his eyes shut and drew in an uneven breath, on the verge of hyperventilating, ready to tumble over a proverbial ledge.

And then warmth surrounded him as Hannibal drew him gently into his arms.

Even as he let out a noise of surprise, his body instinctively melted into the embrace. He made no move to return the hug, simply relented to it, savoring its protective comfort. More tears slipped down his cheeks and he could not bring himself to care. The relief he found in that simple embrace humbled him, quieting his troubled heart significantly.

“I hope you realize I’m serious about everything I’ve said,” spoke Hannibal, bringing a hand up to stroke Will’s hair. “If you wake up from a nightmare at 3am and need someone to talk to, call me. If you have an episode and need me during one of my classes, I will make time. If you show up randomly on my doorstep in need of comfort or simply the presence of another human being, I will welcome you.”

“Why?” asked Will weakly into Hannibal’s chest. His arms twitched, eager to snake around the man, but he held them still. “Why do you care so much? I’m just a patient.”

“I…feel an affinity with you,” confessed Hannibal. “I’ll elaborate later...perhaps when we’ve gotten further into your therapy.”

“Okay,” said Will, confused but curious. That revelation offered the potential of at least a friendship beyond therapy.

“We should start as soon as possible,” said Hannibal releasing Will from his arms but remaining close. “How about tomorrow? I have an afternoon class to teach, but we can meet afterwards at 7.”

Will merely nodded, wiping at his damp eyes and cheeks, embarrassed. That made two days in a row he had cried in front of the man.

“Would you mind relocating our sessions to my home?” asked Hannibal. “My study would work rather well for our needs, and it would allow us to keep your therapy more private.”

“That’s fine,” said Will perking up a bit. He could scarcely believe his luck, being granted the opportunity to frequent his attractive psychiatrist’s house. It seemed less and less likely he was going to get over his crush easily.

“Then it’s settled,” said Hannibal with a brief grin. “As much as I have enjoyed our unexpected time together, I must drive you home now. The errands will not run themselves and my lesson plan is in need of fine tuning.”

At a loss for words, Will nodded once again and slipped off of the stool. His mind was reeling from everything that had transpired in the last day, but he felt hopeful for the first time in a long while. It was definitely going to be grossly uncomfortable facing his issues head-on, but it somehow seemed a lot less terrifying with Hannibal at the helm.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Will, can I speak with you for a moment?”

He froze in his tracks at the gentle voice of Dr. Alana Bloom beckoning him to her desk. Promptly, he redirected himself towards her trying not to fidget. She smiled and tucked a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear. Will knew she was a happily married woman with a child, but he could not help but find her attractive, and suspected that she was well aware of her allure.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, how are things going with Dr. Lecter?”

“All things considered, good,” said Will as quietly as he could manage considering some students were still lingering in the classroom.

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Alana leaning her hip against the desk casually. The pencil skirt she wore was outrageously flattering, hugging her form in all the right places. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to pry into your personal business. I’m just…really happy to hear that you’re getting some help. I think this is good for Hannibal as well.”

“Really? How so?” asked Will curiously. Her statement suggested familiarity with Hannibal and he knew she was hiding something, though certainly not out of anything but respect or perhaps friendship.

“Hmm…well, without giving too much away, I’ll just say that it’s probably pretty therapeutic for him to be practicing again, even if unofficially,” she answered, then chuckled.

“Honestly, I think this therapy is going to benefit you both.”

Interesting. “Why did he stop practicing?” asked Will. He did not really expect an answer, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

“I’ll let him tell you that if and or when he’s ready,” said Alana turning to gather up her laptop and various items scattered on the desk.

“Fair enough,” sighed Will shifting uneasily. He hoped she wouldn’t tell Hannibal he was being nosy.

“That’s all I wanted to talk about,” said Alana facing him again. “Have a good week and don’t forget about the essay due next Wednesday.”

They parted ways and Will made his way home. The early November weather had settled firmly into cold with the promise of impending snow. After tossing his bag on the couch, he turned on the space heater and checked the local news. Nothing out of the ordinary and flurries were indeed forecasted for later in the week. He pulled out his laptop and started to research potential topics for his essay, finished some of his Humanities reading, and eventually wandered into the kitchen for a late lunch. Having run out of productive things to do, he spent the rest of the afternoon watching Netflix and trying not to dwell on his evening therapy appointment.

It was about 6:30 when he decided to head over to Hannibal’s house. He had text Will his address earlier in case he had forgotten where it was located. The drive only took fifteen minutes and Will noted the black Cadillac he pulled up behind in the driveway, wondering if he should have parked in the street instead. He took a moment to observe the neighborhood since he really had not had the opportunity last time. It was definitely upper middle class, which meant people with decent money, but still relatively humble and homey. The houses were mostly of the colonial variety, anywhere from Dutch to Revival, though he recalled seeing some ranch and craftsman style ones on his way into the subdivision. As he walked up the concrete steps to the front door, he recognized Hannibal’s home as being a brick colonial, but of exactly which type he did not know since its design was ambiguous to his untrained eye.

Hannibal greeted him warmly soon after he rang the doorbell. Will politely removed his shoes and hung up his jacket in the mud room he had completely failed to notice during his last visit. Afterwards he was led into the study past the stairs. The room was done in dark colors, walls lined with shelves filled with neatly organized books. Its furnishings consisted of a large wooden desk, leather chaise lounge, two chairs, and scattered decorative tables. The heavy, dark burgundy drapes beyond the desk were drawn shut, and the presence of a stag statue, framed prints, and a couple potted plants gave it a sophisticated yet cozy atmosphere. Hannibal gestured for Will to sit on one of the chairs, which faced each other, and he did so uneasily.

“To start this session, I would like you to explain to me how you came to know Garret Jacob Hobbs,” said Hannibal after he sat down.

Straight to the point. No stalling or running away that time. Will took a deep breath, folding his hands in his lap. His heart was already starting to beat faster at the mere thought of explaining anything pertaining to the incident.

“I met his daughter, Abigail, in high school,” said Will. “She’s a year behind me, and was getting bullied by these awful popular girls. I stepped in and basically shooed them away, kept doing it for the rest of the year and got to know her. She was like the little sister I never had, very sweet and accepting, occasionally made fun of me. Naturally, I got to know her parents as well…and her dad…I knew instantly something was off about him.”

“And what led you to think that?” asked Hannibal. “Also, I feel it worth mentioning that I am familiar with his record as a prolific serial killer.”

“I…I just felt it at first,” said Will, thoughtfully. “This may sound ridiculous, but it seemed like the air around him was denser. A dark haze clung to him…like light literally avoided his body but he was somehow backlit with a quiet, reserved power. It felt heavy, uncomfortable, and intense all at the same time. For a while, I thought I was just imagining it or exaggerating the feelings in my mind. I’ve run across people with strange vibes in the past and their only crime was being eccentric.”

“That does not sound ridiculous in the least,” said Hannibal. “Do you often get intuitions about people you meet?”

“Yes,” said Will, moderately surprised with how comfortable he was talking about the current subject. Though they had not yet gotten anywhere near the worst of it, he usually shied away from the topic like a reflexive tic. “I’ve been told I’m exceptionally gifted with empathy and imagination, though it really doesn’t feel like a gift most of the time.”

“Did your empathy and imagination show you Hobbs’s hidden true nature?”

“Not exactly,” said Will fidgeting. “Maybe…I mean…I guess. When I saw the way he interacted with Abigail, I would sometimes get these flashes of him doing similar things with different girls that looked like her. It seemed so far-fetched that I ignored it.”

“But that’s exactly what he did after kidnapping them,” said Hannibal leaning forward slightly. “Did you tell anyone about these glimpses you caught?”

“No. I thought it made me sound crazy.”

“Well, it is my opinion that this gift of yours is more in the realm of genius than insanity,” said Hannibal regarding Will curiously.

“Insanity is not a proper medical term,” said Will bringing his legs up to sit cross-legged in the chair, since it was large enough to accommodate his lean form.

“You are correct, but I hesitate to refer to your gift as a psychosis, even if just for the sake of comparison,” said Hannibal. He paused for a moment, steepling his hands. “You seem to be comfortable talking about the circumstances surrounding the incident. Would you be averse to discussing how you came to be involved in it on the night it happened?”

Will stared at Hannibal’s shirt for a minute. He idly noted he was wearing a nice suit, sans the jacket, with a waistcoat tailored to the subtle curves of his torso. “Everything…clicked into place weeks before it happened,” he started quietly, haltingly. “The news was reporting on another missing girl, dark hair, fair skin, roughly Abigail’s height. And then…then Abigail told me about her father’s monthly ‘hunting’ trips. Every month, like clockwork, Garret Jacob Hobbs went on a hunting trip…and the girls…” He trailed off as a wave of nausea washed over him. His hands started to tremble so he clutched at his legs tightly to still them.

“At that point, you knew Hobbs was not hunting common game, but rather innocent young girls,” supplied Hannibal.

Swallowing audibly, Will nodded with a frown. “I decided to follow him when he left for his next trip, put my mind at ease that I was just imagining things. It was a dumb idea, so incredibly stupid and careless…I drove a decent distance behind him and he…he never left the city limits, though we were technically on the outskirts. I parked far away, lost track of him, and walked around looking for him like some wannabe hero in a bad horror movie.

“It was cold, I was tired and hungry, had school the next morning. I was about to give up.” He stopped and glanced at Hannibal, who was paying rapt attention to his story, mouth parted slightly and leaning forward ever so slightly. The usual horrified reaction to his recount was missing and that encouraged him to continue despite his reservations. “Then I noticed his truck parked by a mechanic’s garage. When I got closer, there was a dim light shining through its dirty windows, easily missed if you weren’t looking for it. The door was unlocked, so I sneaked inside, dialed 911 on my phone but didn’t send the call…” He was gripping his legs so hard his knuckles were turning white, perspiration gathering on his forehead and brow as the memory took over his senses.

“Will, you don’t have to-“

“He was in that garage,” interrupted Will starting to shake more visibly, his eyes staring ahead blankly, unable to focus on anything in the present. “He was gutting a girl. Gutting a girl like you would gut a deer. Right there on a table, hands sunk into her open abdomen, tipping her over so he could take out her intestines. They spilled all over the table-and he was so calm about it, like it was completely normal to gut a person like an animal…I saw her eyes, her blue eyes, they were so dull-“

Without warning, Hannibal slid out of his seat and swiftly closed the gap between them. He leaned over Will and took his face firmly in his hands. “Will,” he said in a commanding tone, startling him back into the present moment. “That’s enough for today, okay?”

Will looked at him only briefly before his eyes tracked around the room like he did not know where he was. His mouth moved, trying to form words, but only a whimper escaped. Shutting his eyes, he suddenly grasped at Hannibal’s hands on his face, still trembling, and let out a shaky breath. A moment later, he tugged the hands from his face and curling himself into a ball, hiding his head behind his drawn up legs.

“I’ll be back shortly,” said Hannibal, wisely withdrawing.

Will had no real sense of time as he tried to calm his frayed, raw nerves. It was a memory that unfortunately haunted him frequently. He would never forget how the shiny viscera had looked as it slid easily from that poor girl’s body, her half-open, lifeless eyes, already starting to film over. Sometimes he thought if he had trusted his intuition sooner, he could have saved her life. He suddenly felt sore and tired as the adrenaline high started to fade. Slowly, he forced himself to relax out of his attempted fetal position.

Hannibal breezed back into the room and handed him a tiny pink pill and glass of water. Will swallowed it dry before sipping the water.

“What was that?” he asked as an afterthought. It was kind of frightening how much blind faith he was putting in Hannibal.

“Alprazolam, 0.5 mg to be precise,” answered Hannibal. “Something milder than lorazepam to help calm your nervous system. I’m going to write you a prescription for it and would like you to take them as needed.”

Will nodded and set the glass on a nearby table, mindful of using the coaster present. Embarrassment was starting to settle in at his unfortunate but sadly expected reaction. He could only imagine how much worse it was going to be once they started trying to uncover lost memories.

“Would you care to join me in the living room for coffee?” said Hannibal. “I’ll start a fire and we can see how you tolerate the medication. If not, I would suggest you head home immediately so any potential side effects don’t hinder you ability to drive.”

“Coffee sounds great,” said Will standing and stretching.

Hannibal smiled and led Will back to the fluffy couch he had sat on a couple nights ago. Naturally, the first thing his mind raced back to was their attempted kiss. He fought to keep down a blush as he watched Hannibal quickly kindle the logs already present in the fireplace before disappearing into the kitchen. The fire grew, crackling and spitting sparks as it gradually warmed the surrounding air. While he waited, he properly took in the décor of the room. It was done in cream and grays with splashes of brighter colors placed randomly for effect. It was a bit more eclectically decorated than the study, but certainly nowhere near cluttered.

Soon enough, Hannibal returned with two mugs. He handed one to Will and sat down next to him, maintaining a respectable distance. As Will absently sipped his coffee, he realized it was already fixed to his preference. He could barely mask his delight at the considerate gesture. They drank in silence for several minutes, enjoying the warmth and company on a cold night.

“I’m sorry,” said Hannibal quietly, breaking the silence. “I take no joy in leading you to such dark places in your mind but it must be done. I fear what will become of you if we leave your issues unresolved.”

Will turned to face Hannibal, drawing his legs up onto the spacious couch. “You don’t have to apologize…I know it’s necessary.” He smoothed his thumbs over the ceramic mug in his hands, already starting to feel the effects of the drug. It was soothing and mild so far. “Honestly, as long as it’s you leading me, those dark places may not destroy me like I thought.”

“I assure you, I will not allow such a thing to happen,” said Hannibal.

Logically, Will knew the declaration was just hopeful, essentially empty words. Hannibal could not assure or promise that the therapy would leave him unscathed, but he still appreciated the sentiment. It was considerate, and Will was not used to people being considerate of his “issues”. He took another sip of his coffee then stared at the cup thoughtfully for a few minutes.

“Can I ask you a question?” he said gazing pointedly at Hannibal’s chin. He could not yet meet the man’s eyes.

“Of course,” said Hannibal easily.

“Halloween night,” started Will, then stopped to take a few deep breaths. His heart was hammering nervously in his chest, and he hoped it would somehow speed up the absorption of the drug. “Why did you …um…why did you let me try to kiss you?”

Hannibal smiled softly and looked away to the fire, leaving Will free to stare openly at his profile. “I was curious what would happen,” he said before setting his mug on the coffee table. When he returned his gaze to Will he readjusted his body to face him as well, mimicking the motion he had done on the night in question.

Will wanted to balk at the answer. “That’s…you were _curious_? B-but isn’t that like highly unprofessional behavior? I mean… I’m obviously the one at fault, but shouldn’t you…discourage it?”

“It’s just a kiss, Will,” laughed Hannibal with a smile that now showed his teeth. “Intoxicated or not, what would have been the harm in a simple kiss?”

“Would you have stopped me if I tried to do more than just kiss you?” asked Will in a moment of uncharacteristic forwardness. His curiosity was stronger than his common sense, apparently.

“Were you planning to do more than just kiss me?” asked Hannibal, shooting the question right back at Will.

Will blushed but did not look away, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt the only thing giving him confidence was the medication forcing his overactive nervous system to relax. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “You know…I’ve heard being drunk doesn’t necessarily make you do things you wouldn’t normally. It just removes inhibition.”

“Yes, I have heard that,” said Hannibal. He leaned against the cushion, resting his loosely folded hands over the leg he had pulled up onto the couch. “Do you believe it to be true?”

“I have no idea,” lied Will. He drained the last of his coffee and set the mug on the table with a loud thump. The medication seemed to be affecting his coordination as well, if only slightly. “Sorry, I don’t even know why I said any of that stuff…I think the drug is working.”

“Is that so? How do you feel?”

“Pretty good…kinda loose,” said Will instantly regretting his choice of words the second they left his mouth. He suppressed a groan and scrubbed his hands over his face. His skin tingled in their wake and he was suddenly keenly aware of how accurate his statement was. His body felt calm and his mind tranquil, which was inducing a mild euphoria considering his normal state was fairly high-strung. Thankfully, it seemed a lot more manageable than his other medication.

“Do you think you’ll be able to drive home safely?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine,” said Will waving a hand dismissively. “I guess I should be going then.”

“If you so desire. When would like to schedule your next appointment?” asked Hannibal standing.

“The usual time on Friday is okay,” said Will rising to his feet, pleasantly surprised that he was steady.

He followed Hannibal to the mud room and clumsily tugged on his boots and jacket as the man patiently waited. It took him longer than normal to lace his boots, but Hannibal did not seem to mind, watching him with a small amused smile. His face was flushed when he finally stood up to leave, mumbling a goodbye and reaching for the door knob.

“Will, wait,” said Hannibal grasping his arm lightly to halt his flight.

Will hesitated to turn around since he did not currently trust his reactions. Why was that becoming a growing trend? After a moment of reluctance, Hannibal resorted to tugging at his arm, guiding him gently to face him. Stupidly, Will felt like he had butterflies in his stomach, and was struck with an eerie but beautiful scene of his chest cracking open to let the insects flutter out between them. He kept his eyes demurely lowered in an attempt to avoid his awe at the vision.

“Here,” said Hannibal lifting one of Will’s hands and placing a piece of paper in it. “Your prescription. I would suggest getting it filled as soon as possible.”

“O-okay,” said Will. He folded his fingers over the paper and shoved it into the interior pocket of his leather jacket.

Suddenly, Hannibal leaned forward. Will looked up with a startled gasp just in time to see his face veer to the side and past his own. The door cracked open behind him and he realized Hannibal had merely moved to open it for him. Why he had chosen to do so in that manner instead of stepping around Will was a good question. It took every ounce of Will’s self control not to grab the man and pull him against his body. He was so close. It would be so easy…

Hannibal withdrew only slightly, his posture casual, and his dark eyes intense. Will felt helplessly fixed on those eyes, staring back openly for the first time that evening, nearly trembling under the searching gaze. After a long minute dragged by, he was drowning in them, barely able to process what he glimpsed in their depths. If he was lucky, they would haunt his dreams instead of Hobbs. He let out an involuntary sigh as the sensations flowed through him and shut his eyes, overwhelmed.

“Intriguing,” whispered Hannibal, still entirely too close to be proper.

Will felt rather than saw when Hannibal withdrew completely, and his body instinctively inclined towards his retreating form. He stilled himself, eyes fluttering open and blinking rapidly like he had just woken from sleep. Hannibal had something akin to a smug smile on his face, but did not let it linger. He moved around Will and drew the door fully open.

A blast of cold air rushed into the room and snapped Will out of his semi-trance immediately. He did not even bother saying goodbye again and simply bolted out the door, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. After he was situated in his car, engine rumbling and heat blasting nothing but freezing wind, he glanced back to the house and saw Hannibal was still watching him from the open door. Another polite consideration, making sure he drove off safely.

The butterflies agitated and intensified as he caught a flash of Hannibal’s intentions from their earlier staring contest. Surely it was the drug skewing his perception. Surely he was imagining an ideal scenario and not perceiving reality. Hannibal wasn’t really interested in him that way. He just wanted to be his psychiatrist and perhaps a friend. Will put the car in reverse and eased it out of the driveway.

He had a lot to think about before his next appointment.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about that hint of smut? *waggles eyebrows* This slow burn stuff is killing me, but I am enjoying building some ridiculous tension between these two. Now that Hannibal has wormed his way into Will's subconscious, he has no hope of escape (not that he wants to!). Also, Hannibal is already starting to test boundaries, ever so slightly. Even if he's not a cannibal in this story, he's still Hannibal, ripe with overconfidence and willing to do inappropriate stuff to satisfy his curiosity. 
> 
> I spent a decent amount of time researching colonial houses for this (and I grew up in one so they're close to my heart). Most of the listings just said "brick colonial", which is very ambiguous and tells me nothing of its style outside of an educated guess. But I tried nonetheless. I'm still waiting to see if anyone can (or cares to) guess where this story is set.
> 
> Thank you for reading and comments are always appreciated! (pls tell me what you think of these grossly inappropriate guys blundering through life) 
> 
> Come join me on [tumblr](http://murdersymphony.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> And here is the blueberry-lemon-brie scone recipe for Bluebird_Rose! Sorry I forgot to post it last chapter;;;  
> [Scone Recipe](http://www.foodnetwork.ca/recipe/blueberry-lemon-and-brie-scones/11035/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends, therapy, stress, struggle, and relief (rinse & repeat)

 

 

Thursday found Will too busy with homework and classes to think much about the chaos that had been his week thus far. He did manage to find time to drop off and pick up his prescription at a local pharmacy, as instructed. Friday morning, he slept in and allowed himself to relax before his afternoon class. Nursing a cup of midday coffee and browsing social media, he startled when he heard loud pounding on his door, almost sloshing the liquid onto his couch. He knew who it was before he even made it across the apartment to unlock the two deadbolt locks, one being Jimmy Proof. He thought it was overkill, but his father had insisted.

“Will! Good to see you!” said Beverly with a beaming smile and rosy cheeks from the cold.

“You knock like a cop,” complained Will.

“I do not!” she said breezing past him. Stopping by the table, she shrugged out of her coat. “Anyways, I haven’t seen you around campus, so I figured I’d come and check up on you.”

“What’s that smell?”

“I brought White Castle!” she said suddenly producing a large, white take out bag.

“Ew.”

“Don’t scoff at my generous offerings of food,” she said. Detouring to the fridge, she grabbed two Cokes. “Come on, let’s eat on the couch like responsible adults.”

Will laughed and followed her to the sofa. He turned on the TV to provide background noise as they ate. It really was too quiet for someone that grew up in a metropolitan area.

“So…Monday was pretty crazy,” said Beverly as nonchalantly as she could manage.

“You left me alone,” said Will. He placed his last slider back onto the coffee table and stared at it. “Alone in a house crammed stupidly full of people. After promising you wouldn’t.”

Beverly winced before looking at him. “I’m sorry…I really am. Brian pulled me out of the room and I was too drunk to think better of it. Plus, I figured Jimmy would keep an eye on you.”

“You make me sound like a child,” said Will trying to keep the bitter edge out of his tone.

“No! No, not at all,” said Beverly waving her hands in the air. “Listen, Will, I’m sorry. I fucked up and I understand if you’re angry with me. I don’t really understand the introversion thing you have going on, but I always try.”

Will looked back to her and she gave him the most pathetically sad expression she could muster. He smiled despite himself. “It’s okay, Bev. I’m upset but I’m not angry. I know you didn’t mean to abandon me…I hope.”

“I most certainly did not!” she proclaimed. “Thank god Dr. Lecter found you or I would have been drunkenly driving around searching for you, and I doubt the success level of such an endeavor.”

“Yeah, he really saved me that night,” he said. “Talk about some dumb luck, huh? Unintentionally wandering near his house while I was lost.”

“Maybe it was fate or something,” said Beverly.

For a few seconds, Will took her opinion into consideration, before laughing and shaking his head. He was beyond grateful that she wasn’t asking why he ditched the party in the first place. Even in the years prior to the incident, he had been prone to panicking when left alone in crowds, so the behavior was not completely unexpected. In all honesty, his tolerance for people varied depending on a fluctuating set of moods and how well his defenses were holding up. Toss alcohol into the situation and it was a crapshoot. Maybe it helped, maybe it hindered.

“So, what was it like?” she inquired. “Did he comfort you? What was his house like? Is he rich? I know you said he used to be a psychiatrist. I bet he’s loaded.”

“Um…he’s definitely well off, but I wouldn’t necessarily say he’s rich,” said Will directing his gaze to the television. “I was pretty upset when he found me. He took me in and helped calm me down.”

“And how exactly did he calm you down, Will?” asked Beverly waggling her eyebrows at him.

“N-not like you’re thinking!” he said, blushing. “He just gave me tea and a blanket…listened to me. Nothing happened.”

“That reaction tells me something definitely happened!” she declared, smiling triumphantly. “Or that you wanted something to happen!”

“What? No way,” scoffed Will, sounding completely unconvincing even to his own ears.

“Oh, please,” said Beverly. “I’ve seen that look on you before. You’re smitten with the good doctor, aren’t you?”

Will wisely remained silent, but still shook his head in denial.

“Fine, whatever,” she said, smirking. “I know the truth even if you don’t dare to speak it. Just promise to let me know if you bang him.”

“Oh my god, _Beverly_!” exclaimed Will, blushing and looking utterly scandalized.

“Don’t be such a damn prude,” she said after laughing for a moment. “Look, I get it and I’m certainly not going to judge you. Let me guess, he’s devilishly handsome, amazingly stable, sincerely wants to help you, and has that hot mature vibe going. Am I close?”

“I cannot believe you,” said Will. He took a drink of his Coke to distract himself from her painfully accurate description.

“Sure you can,” she shot back. “If you add in the inappropriate attraction factor you’ve got a nearly irresistible scenario. Do you think he likes you back?”

“Bev…”

“Have you kissed him yet?”

“Beverly!”

“Whaaat?” she whined.

“Nothing is going on between us other than therapy sessions,” said Will. “Like real therapy sessions that are uncomfortable and horrible given the nature of the subject matter, so please, drop it.”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” she said, sounding only mildly regretful. “You seeing him tonight?”

“Yeah, after my Humanities class.”

“I can give you a ride to school,” said Beverly. “Then after your appointment, you can be like ‘oh no, I need a ride home’, which he would gladly offer. Then you can lure him into your apartment and seduce him-“

“Bev, stop,” groaned Will. He was certainly not going to tell her they were having the sessions at Hannibal’s house and further fuel her apparent enthusiasm for them to hook up. “You are the worst kind of enabler, I swear.”

“Or the best,” she said with a devilish smile. She glanced at her phone. “Well, it’s about time for me to head out. If you need any help with the doctor, let me know.”

“Thanks for the food, Bev,” said Will pointedly ignoring her last comment.

Will saw her out and cleaned up the mess they made. Soon after, he left for his class and was barely able to pay attention. He tried to tell himself it was because of the dreaded session rapidly approaching, but if he was being completely honest, it also had a lot to do with Beverly stirring the pot of his inappropriate attractions. Both things considered, the evening was going to be fairly uncomfortable for him. He stifled a sigh into his hand and tried once again to pay attention to the lecture.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Sitting stiffly in the dark, leather chair, Will wrung his hands. Hannibal had shown him to the study and immediately disappeared. He reappeared a few minutes later with a tray that he set down on his desk. With a dash of flair, he fixed the coffee in the two teal mugs to their preference and offered one to Will before taking his seat. Not in the rush he had been last time, Hannibal allowed the silence to stretch on for a moment as they both sipped the hot beverages.

“Have you filled the prescription I gave you?” asked Hannibal as he set his coffee aside on a nearby table.

“Yes,” answered Will keeping the warm mug in his hands to chase away the chill. He noticed Hannibal was dressed much more casually in tan slacks, cream oxford shirt, and wine colored sweater. “I…um…I took one before I drove here. After my class.”

“Excellent,” said Hannibal with an approving smile. “I was about to suggest just that, if you happened to have them with you. If not, I could have provided a substitute. Are you ready to begin?”

Will nodded before nervously taking a sip of coffee and setting the mug aside. His hands were trembling enough that he feared he would spill it. The medication would soon start to soothe his nerves, but currently they felt like they were raw and vulnerable.

“We left off at the point you encountered Garret Jacob Hobbs disemboweling his victim,” said Hannibal bluntly. “You do not need to further describe that occurrence. Tell me, Will, what happened next?”

Drawing in a shaky breath, Will found a nice spot on a bookcase to stare at while he reluctantly allowed his mind to wander back to the incident. It resurfaced with amazing clarity, as it normally did. He could see Hobbs staring at him first in surprise, then letting a sick smile spread across his face. The biting cold of fall seeped through his thin, worn flannel as the metallic scent of blood and oddly sweet smelling coolant curled around him, overwhelming his senses.

“Nice of you to join me,” said Garret softly. He withdrew one hand from the girl’s abdomen and used it to carefully tip her onto her side. Her intestines started to spill out of the incision and he carefully guided the bulk of them out onto the steel table. “You can keep a secret…right, Will?”

Will offered no response, but felt his eyes open impossibly wider to take in the horrific display. His body began to shake from both cold and fear, firmly rooted where he stood. Distantly, he thought he heard himself speaking, describing what was occurring.

“I suppose you’ve figured out what’s going on since you’re here,” said Garret taking up a knife to cut the viscera free. He continued to work at removing other digestive organs methodically, occasionally glancing up to Will. “I knew you were a clever one the second I laid eyes on you.”

Will’s stomach churned more violently as each new, shiny organ slipped out of the girl’s abdominal cavity. Her eyes stared blankly, filmed over in death, and he could not help but fixate on them, even though looking away from Garret was not exactly wise.

“You have potential, Will,” he said, gently laying the girl onto her back and inspecting the cavity. “Such potential would be a shame to waste. You should join me.”

When Garret started to move around the table and towards him, Will felt his body react before his mind, driven by a primal instinct to survive. He started to stumble backwards, almost tripping over his own feet as his mind struggled to catch up with the reality and gravity of the situation.

“N-no! Stay away!” he cried out, startling badly when he collided with a tall toolbox and the sound of metal instruments jostling within filled the silence. As he attempted to steady himself, his hand landed conveniently on a large wrench that had been left out on its narrow ledge. He curled his fingers around it.

“He speaks!” said Garret, still advancing slowly. “The nerves are normal in the beginning. I had them too. In time, they will pass.”

“What?” spat Will. “I-I’m not joining you! You’re a murderer, a-a monster! I’m going to turn you in!” He tugged his phone out of his pocket and immediately regretted it when he saw the dark expression shadow Garret’s face.

“Now, now, no need to be hasty!” said Garret. He started to back up with his hands in the air. “I think we can discuss this calmly before doing anything we’ll regret later.”

Will openly balked at the statement and tried to sputter out a response, but only managed a weak laugh. He pushed himself away from the toolbox taking the wrench with him and letting it hang heavily in his left hand. Another step made him aware of the adrenaline flowing through his veins, readying him for an attack if necessary.

Garret suddenly ducked behind the table and hauled up a barely conscious girl that Will was shocked to realize was Abigail. Her head lolled on her neck almost uselessly making it apparent that she was sedated. Will watched in horror as Garret lifted the knife to her throat.

“This has been a long time coming, Will,” hissed Garret sounding irritated. “You make that call and she dies. I’ve barely been able to keep myself from doing it…it’s your fault it may happen this time. You’re pushing me over the edge, weakening my resolve.”

“Don’t hurt her!” shouted Will, relieved his voice obeyed him. He tossed his phone aside in a gesture of obedience not realizing he had accidentally hit the send call button in the process.

“This was not part of the plan…this is your fault, Will,” said Garret. He inhaled and exhaled slowly as his hand twitched on the handle of the knife. Something shifted and hardened in his eyes. “Her death is on your hands.”

As the blade moved to slice the delicate skin of Abigail’s neck, Will lunged into action thoughtlessly with a desperate cry. He saw a line of blood blossom on her skin and swung the wrench back.

A flash of silver. A dull crack and thud. Everything went red, then black.

“-ill! Will!”

He felt his body moving and in a delayed manner realized he was being shaken. The darkness receded abruptly and a blurry figure loomed close, hunched over him. His first instinct was to shy away from this person, curl himself into a fetal position and avoid all contact.

“Will, are you with me now?”

A familiar and comforting voice made him halt his attempt to wriggle free. Hannibal’s concerned face came into focus and Will nearly deflated, letting out a couple embarrassing sounds that ended on a sob he could not stop. His body was trembling and he brought his hands up to grasp at Hannibal’s arms, testing if he was real. Seeing the recognition return to Will’s eyes, Hannibal relaxed only marginally, still frowning.

“Can you stand?” he asked.

Will nodded jerkily and was practically lifted to his feet and guided from the room. His sense of his surroundings was still fuzzy at best, but Hannibal led him steadily to the same couch he had occupied the last couple visits. He sat Will down half reclined and draped a fleece blanket over his body before leaving the room in a rush. In the brief moment he was gone, Will felt adrift, far too drained from the receding adrenaline high to really question anything.

Hannibal returned promptly and unsurprisingly in possession of more medication. He knelt before the couch and gently helped Will sit up, feeding him a pill and water. Will tried not to choke on the water, taking sloppy sips and wiping at his mouth reflexively to remove the amount that had dribbled down his chin. His better senses were returning but he still felt skittish. Hannibal set the water aside and reclined him back, sliding his hand around to rest on Will’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” croaked Will still fighting the tremors passing through his body. “This happened…last time too…what was that pill?”

“There is no need to apologize. The pill was just more of what you’re already taking, alprazolam,” said Hannibal. “I should have prescribed a higher dosage. Perhaps take two before your next session.”

Will nodded and closed his eyes, clutching the blanket up higher over his chest.

“I’ll let you rest for about fifteen minutes. It will give the medication time to work and we can gauge your tolerance,” said Hannibal pulling his hand away. “I would rather stay with you but have some urgent emails to attend to.”

He wanted to protest, but merely watched as Hannibal left the room. Exhausted from the adrenaline fallout, Will let his eyes slip shut and surrendered to the urge to rest his aching body. He could not tell how much time had passed but felt a heaviness settling in as the drug took a deeper hold of his body. His mind stubbornly resisted sleep, and he drifted in the liminal space between consciousness and slumber. Surely more than fifteen minutes had gone by?

A voice muttered something in the distance. Fingers carded carefully through his hair, something else was whispered, Will couldn’t make sense of it. Before stirring, he swore he felt a finger just barely brush his lower lip. He reluctantly pried his eyes open and winced at the low light. Hannibal’s face immediately came into view as if he had never left. He was once again sitting on the floor in front of the couch, leaning casually onto an arm resting on it.

“How do you feel, Will?”

“Tired,” he answered.

“I take it that is an improvement.”

“It is,” confirmed Will, turning onto his side to better face Hannibal.

“Good, I’m glad,” said Hannibal.

They remained silent for a moment merely appreciating the calming effect of each other’s presence.

“Dr. Lecter?”

“Call me Hannibal, if you don’t mind.”

Will shifted and smiled. “Hannibal…do you think it will get easier? If I keep talking about it?”

“Perhaps,” said Hannibal. He moved his fingers idly over the cushion. “Everyone is different. Sometimes we rob something of its power by speaking of it and sometimes we feed it.”

“Oh.” Will looked away, frowning slightly.

“However,” said Hannibal drawing his gaze back. “I do believe that when we uncover what is hidden in the depths of your captivating mind, you will find closure and peace. It may help you put this to rest and move on, though the process may be gradual.”

“How will you do that? Uncover those memories?” asked Will. His other psychiatrist had never gotten that far with him, though in his defense he had not given the man proper time to do so.

“I have my methods,” said Hannibal. He let his hand stray further onto the cushion until his fingertips slid over the fleece blanket. “Don’t worry about that now. I’ve decided to call off our sessions for the next week. A break seems practical after the progress you’ve made.”

“Really?” It was the best response he could fish up that wasn’t a blatant complaint or protest. He did not want to admit to anyone besides himself that he would miss Hannibal if he did not see him for an entire week.

“It’s painfully obvious how deeply this affects you, Will,” said Hannibal, feeling over the blanket until he was resting his hand on Will’s arm beneath. “I do not want to push you haphazardly towards a goal. We can still meet if you’d like, but I will not conduct therapy sessions. Let your mind rest and accept that it has made a brave leap into the grotesque and came out better for it.”

“I want to see you next week,” said Will surprised by the resolution in his voice. Hannibal’s only notable reaction was a slight rise of his eyebrows. “I feel like…like your absence would set me back. Progress wise.” He could not gauge the truth of his statement but felt okay playing the card. It had practically been laid out with a gift bow on it.

“In that case, would you care to join me on Tuesday at the cider mill?” asked Hannibal. “I make at least one trip yearly before they close for the season, and I have already cancelled my class for the day.”

“I’d like that,” said Will. He could make up the work for his afternoon class without much problem.

Hannibal seemed happy with his response and smiled before helping him sit up. After an initial bought of dizziness upon standing Will felt spacey but much calmer. Almost normal even, which was a miracle after reliving the incident. He reassured Hannibal a couple times that he could drive fine before the man seemed to reluctantly agree. Hannibal guided him to the front door with a hand on the small of his back, and Will secretly delighted in the casual touch. It felt natural and helped keep him comfortably grounded in the moment rather than letting his mind wander to less savory places. He feared it may do just that over the weekend, but reminded himself Hannibal would be there if he needed anything.

The loss of touch as he walked to his car in the cold was unpleasant, as was the drive home. Unable to get truly irritated due to the medication, he resorted to just feeling depressed. Will had always heard that touch was therapeutic but never believed it until Hannibal came into his life. Hannibal’s touch did not feel overwhelming or invasive as most people’s tended to. As much as he knew it would be for the best to put all such things from his mind completely, the notion that a human connection existed that didn’t repulse him was exhilarating.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The days passed sluggishly and were brimming full of persistent nightmares and daydreams. Hannibal may be proud of Will’s “leap into the grotesque” but all it served to truly accomplish was stirring a horrible pot of repressed emotions. He tried to distract himself from them, but inevitably found himself struggling through a mire of guilt, anger, and fear.

On Monday, he awoke covered in sweat and greeted by Garret sitting on the far end of his bed. He jolted and backed up instinctively, despite knowing the man really wasn’t really there. He certainly looked real enough. When he fell over the edge of the mattress and onto the floor, he heard Garret laugh. By the time he scrambled to his feet, the man had vanished. Two classes awaited him and he went through his morning routine on autopilot, forgetting to take his pills before leaving the loft.

The first class went fairly well even if he was barely listening. Afterwards, he decided to go to the library to work on finishing his paper due on Wednesday. Despite the cold weather, Will enjoyed strolling through the large campus. Forested and landscaped, with old and contemporary buildings littered about its acres, it painted an impressive picture. He eagerly awaited the stunning beauty it presented after snow blanketed everything.

The flash of bouncing red curls he caught out of the corner of his eye should have alerted him immediately to the impending confrontation, but his mind was preoccupied with whether or not to call Hannibal about his recent hallucination.

“Will Graham!” called out a familiar voice. “If I could have a moment of your time, please?”

Will winced and stopped dead in his tracks, though every instinct he had was telling him to flee the obnoxious woman advancing on him like a predator. He reluctantly turned towards her bracing himself for an onslaught of inappropriate questions. Freddie Lounds did not disappoint.

“I missed you last time,” she said, stopping at a respectable distance. Thankfully, there were not many people around.

“A pity, truly.”

“Have you given it any thought?” asked Freddie. “I would still like to give you the opportunity to tell your version of the story.”

“Seeing that I don’t remember the crucial part of it, wouldn’t it be a rather dull article?” said Will. He tried not to, but shifted nervously on his feet and readjusted his messenger bag strap.

“Not necessarily,” she said. “It didn’t take a crime scene analyst to figure out what you did. Forgive me for saying that it was pretty obvious what happened. We can fabricate the finer details. Nobody would know the difference…except maybe you one day.”

Will frowned. “This is deplorable. I’m not going to lie about what happened…this involves real people-“

“Yes, _real_ people that you have negatively impacted,” interrupted Freddie taking a step towards him. “A real person that you killed. The report said it was in self defense, but I ask you, is that really true? Garret Jacob Hobbs was a monster, but that didn’t make ending his life the right thing to do.”

She was right and the truth of her words hit him like a blow to the chest, robbing him of his breath. He tried to respond, but the words stuck in his throat and breathing was becoming more difficult by the second. The guilt from the weekend washed through him anew, overwhelming his senses and settling into his heart like a weight.

“Hey, I’ve heard some rumors that you’re in therapy now.” Freddie took yet another step towards him. She was so close, too close. “How is it going? Who’s your therapist? Probably someone that works here, right? Good to keep this kind of stuff off the books. I’ve tried asking around but everyone is surprisingly tight-lipped.”

“P-please…leave me alone,“ he said quietly.

“Hm? Didn’t quite catch that.”

Much to his horror, she leaned in to hear him better and it set off alarms in his mind. His body was already having an exaggerated anxiety response and it was only a matter of time before she triggered a full-blown episode. Even if she was terribly annoying, he was afraid he may attempt to harm her if a legitimate flashback occurred.

“You can keep a secret…right, Will?”

Will let out a startled gasp at the familiar phrase. Within the blink of an eye, Garret was suddenly the person standing so close to him, breath warm and stale against his exposed skin. He could see his eyes so clearly, irises still blue yet coated with a milky film, bones beneath pallid skin shattered and misshapen. The smell of blood hit his nose and jarred him into action. He dashed around Garret like his life depended on it, hitting his shoulder against him in his flight.

He sprinted, nearly running into several people, ignoring their concerned calls. His feet carried him, his heart hammered wildly in his chest, and he had no idea where he was going. Much like the last time, his body instinctively carried him back to his Chevelle. He fumbled his keys out of his jacket pocket and attempted to unlock the door twice before succeeding. Once safely inside he wasted no time starting the car and peeling out of the parking lot recklessly.

Having no clear destination in mind other than away from the campus, Will was surprised to realize he had arrived at Hannibal’s house rather than his own apartment. He also noted that by some small miracle, Hannibal’s car was in the driveway. No time like the present to see if Hannibal’s offer to always be available was legitimate. He grabbed his bag with shaking hands and hurried to the front door. After ringing the doorbell he waited, trembling, covered in sweat, and feeling generally awful.

Hannibal opened the door fairly quickly, took one brief look at him, and immediately pulled him stumbling into the house. He said nothing as he took Will’s bag and then set to removing his jacket and boots. It was the same efficient whirlwind of action as the last time Hannibal attended to him in such a manner, and it left Will feeling a bit disorientated. When he was finished, Hannibal held him by the shoulders and pinned him with a serious gaze.

“Will, what happened?”

“Freddie…she…she said such terrible things.” He swallowed, looking down as the tears blurring his vision began to slip down his cheeks. “I’ve been…hallucinating again.”

“When? How many?”

“Today,” answered Will. His body began to tremble more at the memory of them. “There were two.”

“How long were they?”

“Oh god,” gasped Will, clutching his chest. All of a sudden it was so hard to breathe. “I’m…getting worse…” He let out a manic laugh, tears starting to flow more freely under the crushing reality. “I’m going fucking crazy. I don’t know what to do…what if there’s no helping me? What if they lock me up? What if-“

Will startled and tensed as he was suddenly yanked forward until his chest bumped into Hannibal’s. Fingers nudged his chin up and before he could utter a sound, warm lips settled against his own. Hannibal stayed still for a moment, giving Will the opportunity to reject him. When he did not, he began to move his lips against Will’s, gently and gradually deepening the kiss.

Will responded slowly as his mind struggled to catch up with reality. For a few seconds he thought he may be hallucinating again, but Hannibal was really kissing him, and his lips were just as soft and skilled as Will had imagined. His mind emptied of all coherent thought and focused solely on the mouth working diligently against his own. It ignited a hunger in him that blossomed warmly in his chest and shot down straight to his groin, urging him to kiss back.

Hannibal let out an amused hum as Will pushed his body more firmly against his and raised his hands to tentatively frame his jaw. He licked at the seam of Hannibal’s lips and his tongue was easily granted access. Eagerly, and perhaps a bit sloppily, Will delved his tongue into Hannibal’s mouth, delighted when Hannibal responded by twining them smoothly. He barely noticed when his hands moved to tangle in Hannibal’s hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer. Distantly, he was aware that Hannibal’s hands had settled on his back.

As the kiss continued, Will felt like he was drowning in the sensations it evoked. His body was completely aroused and his hands alternated from tousling Hannibal’s hair to holding his face. Eventually, Will withdrew ever so slightly to catch his breath and rested his hands on Hannibal’s chest. He felt drunk and when Hannibal chuckled and leaned forward to press one last kiss to his lips, he nearly swooned.

“Do you feel better?”

Will nodded. His mind was reeling from everything that had happened that day, but being so close to Hannibal seemed to chase away the persistent panic that had been threatening to swallow him whole.

“Does this help?” Hannibal gently wiped at Will’s damp cheeks with this thumbs. “Does physical contact help calm you?”

“Yours does,” said Will. He felt the need to clarify that. Not everyone’s touch was welcome.

“You’ve been suffering the whole weekend, haven’t you?” said Hannibal.

Will did not know how to respond so he merely nodded again. At the very least, the sobering reminder was helping calm his aroused state.

“Well, we shall have to find a method of comfort for you that works better than medication,” said Hannibal. He stepped away to lead Will into the living room, seating them both on the couch. “Do you still want to go to the cider mill tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course.” Besides the fact that any time spent with Hannibal was good, he hadn’t been to one in too long. It would be a nice distraction.

“In that case, I would like for you to spend the night,” said Hannibal. “Is that okay?”

Will would have deflated in relief if he was not so excited in that moment. He was sure his face lit up as he nodded, trying to keep from smiling stupidly.

“Excellent,” said Hannibal. “Do you need anything from your apartment? I would gladly drive you there.”

“I…should probably pick up a few things,” said Will.

“Alright,” said Hannibal patting Will’s knee briefly. “Let’s go and we can stop at the grocery store on the way back. I’d like to get a few fresh items for dinner tonight.”

Will followed Hannibal’s lead in somewhat of a daze as they prepared to leave. He once again got to ride in Hannibal’s fancy Cadillac, some variety of luxury sedan with leather interior. The trip to his apartment was quick, and Hannibal made sure Will took one of his pills before they left for the store. The drug started to kick in around the produce aisle and definitely made the shopping experience more interesting. Hannibal offered to buy any snacks or drinks that Will wanted, but he politely declined.

After arriving at the house and putting the groceries away, Hannibal took inventory of what he needed to prepare dinner, and made them some coffee considering it was too early to start cooking. Apologetically, Hannibal then excused himself to the study to get some work done and Will settled into the living room with his laptop. First he emailed his Humanities professor that he would missing the afternoon class. Next he tried to finish his psychology paper, but his mind kept wandering back to the kiss and shorting out. Hannibal was acting so nonchalant that Will wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

Finally reaching some semblance of completion after struggling with it for over an hour, Will saved the work and closed Microsoft word. He surfed the net for a little while before Hannibal came in to check on him. Hannibal turned on the local news to check the weather, then handed the remote to Will leaving him to continue resting while he prepared dinner.

Dinner was ready within the hour and they sat at the finely set dining room table to eat. Hannibal explained as he served that the meal was coriander planked salmon with a cilantro-yogurt sauce and a side of asparagus with lemon butter sauce, lightly garnished with parmesan. He offered Will a glass of oak-aged Chardonnay which he accepted and sipped at sparingly.

Of course, the food was amazing, and Will once again had to force himself not eat it like a starved savage. The main course was cleared away and dessert was then served, Thai sweet sticky rice with mango slices. Fresh and delicate, it was a perfect conclusion to a fantastic meal. Will was impressed.

“That was one of the best meals I’ve ever had,” declared Will as he helped Hannibal clear the table.

“Such flattery,” said Hannibal. He rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher fairly quickly. “There are leftovers that you are welcome to take home with you tomorrow if you’d like.”

“Okay,” said Will. “And I’m being completely honest. You would probably cringe if you knew what I grew up eating.”

Hannibal chuckled and refilled their wine glasses, motioning for them to return to the living room. After they sat down and turned on a history documentary, Will decided that the couch was by far one of his favorite places in Hannibal’s house. They finished their wine in silence, watching the plights of ice age hunters. Hannibal sat very close to Will, but did not otherwise impose himself on his personal space.

Will finished his wine and set the glass on the coffee table. He was feeling only slightly tipsy, which was nice. “What else do you like to watch?” he asked, turning his body towards Hannibal.

“Nature documentaries, cooking shows,” answered Hannibal, “and believe it or not, horror movies.”

“Really?”

“Really,” said Hannibal, smiling. “I like their creativity and desperation. The people in them are often pushed to dramatic breaking points, if not somewhat unrealistic, and are forced to make decisions outside their comfort zones. Plus some have unique psychological aspects to them that I find interesting.”

“Huh…never thought of them that way,” said Will. “You’ll have to let me know what your favorites are so I can watch them.”

Despite the early evening hour, Will was already feeling pretty tired. He supposed the day was just catching up with him and he assumed they had an early morning. He gave up trying to sit upright and slouched against the back of the couch.

“We can watch them together,” said Hannibal. His gaze was so fond that Will nearly blushed. “You’re obviously exhausted, Will. Would you like to retire for the night?”

Will nodded sluggishly and tried to ignore the dread creeping into the back of his mind. There was an excellent chance he would have nightmares again, and possibly another hallucination at some point.

“I have a proposition for you,” said Hannibal. “You’ve not been sleeping well lately, correct?”

“Yeah…I have a lot of bad dreams,” said Will.

“Would it help to have someone near you at night?” asked Hannibal. “A physical presence to calm and ground you?”

“Wait a minute…are you asking me if…if…” He couldn’t quite force the words from his mouth.

“Yes, I’m asking if you think sleeping next to me would help your condition,” said Hannibal bluntly.

“Seriously?” said Will. He sat upright, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Isn’t that…highly inappropriate? And unethical?”

Hannibal shrugged. “I have found morality to be quite subjective in my experience. It’s merely a suggestion. Take or leave it as you please. I will take no offense either way.”

His statements pretty much confirmed what Will had sensed during their first intimate staring episode on the couch. The part of his mind that weakly clung to such “moralities” warned him that the idea was probably not being presented for solely altruistic reasons. The deeper and more primitive part of his mind eagerly insisted that the offer was harmless and was worth a shot. Plus the prospect of spending another night alone with his demons was not appealing in the least.

“Yes,” said Will after a moment. He was glad he had a couple depressants in his system because otherwise he would be shaking. “I want to try that,” he added, trying to sound confident.

“Grab your bag. Do you have a book you’d like to read? If not you can choose one from the study.”

“No, I’m fine,” said Will as they both stood. He swayed slightly on his feet and retrieved his bag.

Being granted access into Hannibal’s room was like being admitted into a secret society, mysterious and somewhere he never really pictured himself being. It was large, lavishly furnished with dark wood furniture, including a couple chairs, floor length curtains, and even a fireplace. There was no en suite bathroom but that was okay. They were not always common in older houses. Will set his bag on the floor near the bed and tried not to fidget.

After turning down the bed, Hannibal gathered up a few clothing items. “I’ll only be a moment. Please, prepare yourself however you normally do and lie down.”

Hannibal left the room, presumably for the bathroom, and Will stared at the empty doorway for a couple minutes. He was nervous, there was no denying that, but with Hannibal gone he had a little time to let the situation sink in fully. His higher mind nagged at him that the scenario was too scandalous to truly enjoy, but the instinctive part put forth no such argument. In fact, it felt strangely natural. He let that part guide him as he removed his pants and sweater, leaving on only his boxers and undershirt. It was how he normally slept.

The bed was huge, definitely king size, and made with the softest sheets he had ever felt. They caressed his skin as he slid between them and settled back onto the numerous pillows lining the headboard. The mattress was firm enough to offer support yet still gave way under his weight slightly. It was perfect. The room was only dimly lit by a lamp so he shut his eyes and snuggled into the comfortable covers, nearly drifting asleep.

The mattress barely dipped beside him but he registered the movement and opened his eyes. Hannibal was sitting on the edge removing his watch. He turned to face Will with a warm smile.

“Would you like me to start a fire?”

“No,” said Will. He pushed some curls from his face and smiled back. “It’s plenty warm.”

“As you wish,” said Hannibal. He stood to remove his robe, revealing a bare torso. “I hope you don’t mind. I usually sleep naked, and pajama pants are about all I can comfortably tolerate.”

“It’s fine.”

Hannibal nodded in acknowledgment and picked up a tablet before sliding under the covers. “Does the light bother you? I read a bit before I go to sleep, but considering the source I can turn off the light if needed.”

Will shook his head. “Everything’s fine.”

Honestly, Hannibal could’ve told him he liked to recite musicals in bed and he would be completely fine with it. His proximity to Will, while still respectable, was immensely comforting. They didn’t even necessarily need to touch. Just the presence of someone he trusted so close was enough. It made facing the potential darkness less terrifying, gave him a measure of confidence and strength he was tired of mustering alone.

“Can…I ask you a question?”

Hannibal looked up from his tablet. “Of course.”

“Why are you doing this?” The question sat heavily in his mind. They both knew one wrong move from the other could land them in trouble. He wondered why Hannibal thought he was worth the risk.

“I trust you, Will.” Hannibal paused and looked back to his tablet. “It’s true that I feel an affinity with you…but I’m also discovering that I care about you. I don’t want you to suffer, and feel I have been failing you recently in that respect.”

“That’s not true,” protested Will.

“That’s kind of you to say, but I can definitely do better, hence our current situation.”

Will remained silent after that, adjusting pillows and covers around himself. He could feel Hannibal’s body heat and smell him everywhere. It soothed his nerves and emptied his mind. Soon, he drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *presses my finger to your lips* shhhh…my Hannibal is a practical fellow and definitely shops at Aldi because it’s amazing and you can’t beat their prices with several large sticks 
> 
> I'm so sorry this update took a while;;; I have had literally 3 sinus/head colds in two months, and the last one was terrible. I'm still not over it and feel more like a walking set of inflamed sinuses than a human.
> 
> I finally took the plunge and made Hannibal offer something morally inappropriate! This will get the ball rolling for more moral ambiguity. (does this even make sense? i'm on a lot of cold medicine) While he does legitimately care about Will and the success of his therapy his methods are...not so great. But, it works for Will, and he did give him ample chances to back out if he wanted so... *shrugs* 
> 
> Thank you for reading and comments are always appreciated!
> 
> Come join me on [tumblr](http://www.murdersymphony.tumblr.com/)!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The slow burn is finally over... Will and Hannibal finally delve into completely inappropriate relations.

 

 

Will woke with a startled gasp, sweating lightly. He looked around confused, searching the darkness for clues to his whereabouts. His gaze finally settled on Hannibal’s sleeping face and he sagged against the pillow in relief. No apparitions of Garrett Jacob Hobbs laughing or asking him questions. Just a ridiculously comfortable bed and handsome man fast asleep at his side.

Realizing his shirt was damp he tugged it off and wiped the sweat from his face. After tossing it aside, he snuggled back under the covers and observed Hannibal. He seemed even more serene than normal, expression impossibly relaxed as he slept. Some of Hannibal’s fringe had fallen over his eyes and Will impulsively reached out to brush it back. Hannibal stirred at the intrusion and Will jerked his hand back.

“Mm…Will? Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gravelly from sleep.

“Y-yeah, sorry.”

“None of that, now.” Hannibal closed his eyes again and hooked a hand behind Will’s back, tugging him towards him. “Come here.”

Once again surprised by his strength, Will was delighted to be pulled closer to Hannibal. He was commanded to “turn around” and then felt Hannibal’s body curl around the back of his. It was immensely comforting and he hummed happily as an arm was draped lazily over his waist.

“Go to sleep, Will.”

Will closed his eyes and fell asleep relatively quickly. He had to bask in the feeling of security for a few minutes before letting himself drift off. He awoke an undetermined time later nightmare free, and upon blearily gazing around the room, hallucination free as well. Sunlight spilled into the room at the edges of the heavy curtains, illuminating the bedroom softly. Once his eyes adjusted, Will realized the room was still rather dim, and that Hannibal was still pressed to his backside breathing evenly.

It took one minute shift to realize he was sporting a typical morning erection, and a blush instantly blossomed on his face, even though Hannibal was still sleeping. He considered bolting for the bathroom, but that left him open for discovery in whatever time it took him to dash away. He rationalized if he just laid still, it would go down in a couple minutes. With Hannibal in such close proximity, he wondered if it would work or if he would just stay aroused. Irrationally, he wondered what would happen if he turned around and acted on yet another impulse.

That train of thought brought him directly to several fantasies he had entertained on lonelier nights, keeping him inconveniently hard. He hissed a curse under his breath and desperately tried not to squirm. Hearing Hannibal hum lowly, practically in his ear, and move sent him into a panic. The sensation of warm skin sliding against his did absolutely nothing to calm him. In fact, his set his nerves singing with a desire to be further stimulated.

“Good morning,” said Hannibal, so close his breath ghosted across Will’s neck.

“Morning.” Will was happy his voice didn’t break, but honestly had no idea what to do. He opted to stay stark still.

“Did you sleep well?” The only movement Hannibal made was to stretch his legs slightly.

“Yeah, great actually.”

“I’m glad.” He paused and sighed happily. “Not many people know this about me…but I love to sleep in.”

Will turned his head and chuckled briefly. “Not much of a morning person?”

“I don’t mind mornings,” said Hannibal. He nuzzled into his pillow and readjusted his arm around Will. “For example, this morning is wonderful.”

Thankfully, the casual conversation allowed for Will’s body to finally calm down. In the wake of desire, affection blossomed in his chest. It had been a long time since someone held him in bed, and even longer since he’d actually enjoyed it. After a moment passed, Will twisted around, and Hannibal lifted his arm to accommodate the movement. Will wanted to press his body against Hannibal’s once again, to wind his arms around him and never let go, but he refrained.

Hannibal smiled at him warmly and brushed some errant curls back behind his ear. “I must admit, it is nice to wake up to an attractive face and warm body. Surely I do not deserve such luxuries out of life anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Will scoffed at the statement. “You definitely deserve luxur….wait, did you just call me attractive?”

Hannibal laughed. “I did, and you are. Are you not aware of it? Perhaps in denial?”

“No…it’s not like that.” Will paused to think. “What I think of myself isn’t the point here. It’s what you think of me that’s important.”

“If you insist. I have half a mind to remain in bed and sleep longer simply to relish in this rare opportunity.”

“It doesn’t have to be rare.” Will blurted out the words without much thought. Once he realized what he had just said a blush spread across his face, threatening to burn him. He brought a hand up to hide it.

“Now, Will, what kind of person would I be if I regularly invited you into my bed?” Hannibal asked the question in an obviously mocking tone. He tugged Will’s hand down from his face so he could witness his smile. “People might begin to talk.”

Seeing Hannibal’s wide, toothy grin loosened something in Will. He smiled in response as his body relaxed. It was amazing to him how comfortable and normal it felt to be lying next to Hannibal. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes and pretended that they were in a romantic relationship. His heart gave a flutter at the mere thought of being allowed to sleep there every night. Maybe then the nightmares would go away permanently.

The feeling of a gentle hand on his face startled Will back to reality.

“Come on, let’s get up. I’ll make breakfast.”

Will nearly pouted as he forced his admittedly well-rested body from the bed. The morning routine went smoothly, the two of them moving around each other with a natural ease. They even shaved at the same time at the double vanity. Hannibal showed Will the location of all the important things in the kitchen and tasked him with making coffee. It was easy enough, and Will delighted in how domestic it felt to assist Hannibal while he cooked, handing over various items he was asked to retrieve.

Soon enough, they were properly bundled up for the cold weather and out the door. The cider mill was about an hour out of town, and the ride was quite pleasant in Hannibal’s posh Cadillac. Considering his father was an engineer for a car company, Will was no stranger to luxury vehicles, but somehow Hannibal’s company made it seem like a new experience. They made small talk for part of the drive, but sat in companionable silence for most of it. Towards the end, Will even dozed off briefly.

When they arrived and started the walk to the entrance, scattered memories came back to Will. In the precious spare time he had, his father had taken Will to that exact cider mill many times in his youth. It was a popular thing to do in fall before they shut down in December for maintenance. He would have liked to say it was a family tradition, but didn’t think they came frequently enough to warrant the label. Still, the memories were fond and welcome.

“You’re smiling,” noted Hannibal. It seemed to be contagious because he was smiling as well.

“My old man used to take me here when I was a kid,” explained Will. He shoved his gloved hands into his coat pockets and shrugged. “Guess I’m happy to be back. Even happier it’s with you.”

“You give me far too much credit, dear Will.” Despite his humble words, Hannibal still looked pleased with the statement.

“Hey, if I can take some flattery, so can you.” Will nudged at Hannibal with his elbow causing his smile to broaden. He saw Hannibal’s sharp teeth peeking through his lips and marveled at this recent discovery. He idly thought they looked like fangs.

They made it to the store and Will felt his legs thawing slightly. It was cold out and even his best winter coat and layers weren’t helping as much as he’d like. Hannibal seemed generally unaffected as he set to purchasing as much cider and fresh made doughnuts as he could carry. Will helped him haul the goods back to the car and Hannibal somehow magically produced two smaller containers of the legendary cider.

“I figured we could drink these while we walked the river trail.” Hannibal plucked a few doughnuts from a box before locking the car. He offered both a cider and doughnut to Will with the same small smile he’d been wearing since they arrived.

“Thank you.” Will felt his cheeks flush as Hannibal casually readjusted his scarf.

“Are you sure you’re warm enough? I have a hat in the car if you need it.”

“I’m fine,” said Will, fumbling open his cider. The gloves made his grip a bit awkward.

He started to walk towards the trail as he took the first sip. The taste spread across his tongue bringing with it another memory. Surprisingly, it was of his mother. It must have been September or October if the trees were any indication. She stood pale and lithe, dark curls falling around her face and down her back. The sun filtered through her hair creating a halo of light and she turned to gaze down at him with a faint smile. The memory faded as quickly as it came and Will noticed he had tears at the corners of his eyes.

“This trip would have been much prettier in the fall,” mused Hannibal politely ignoring Will’s emotional reaction.

“Yeah…it is.” Will scrubbed at his face with his coat sleeve, then took a bite of his doughnut.

Halfway through the trail, Hannibal led Will off the path to sit by the river. It was relatively deserted thanks to the weather, which was just fine by Will. They sat on a conveniently placed bench and enjoyed the view. It was that time between fall and the first snow, when the forests and general landscape were barren, green sapped from the earth. Skeletal branches jutted out and tangled everywhere, water ran steadily nearby, random birds chirped periodically, all on a backdrop of muted tones. It was peaceful.

“Once the snow comes, this place will be breathtaking.” Hannibal gazed sideways at Will after a drink of cider. His hair was slightly tousled from the wind and he appeared more carefree, devilishly handsome if Will had to pick an appropriate description. It was definitely a good look on him.

“Should be soon too,” said Will looking out at the river. His eyes inevitably wandered back to Hannibal. He supposed he was staring at the man with a measure of yearning that was apparent, but could not force himself to look away. Even doing something as simple as drinking cider, Hannibal seemed enticing to him. It felt like his first crush all over again, amplified by greedy hormones and enough experience to know exactly what he wanted.

“When you look at me like that, it’s hard to remain a scholarly gentleman.” Hannibal glanced at Will out of the corner of his eye but did not turn his head.

“Then don’t be one.” Will could hardly believe his bold words. Maybe he had hit a breaking point. “You’re the one that went on about how kissing isn’t a big deal.”

Hannibal chuckled and finally looked at Will, turning his entire body towards him as well. He placed an arm on the back of the chair behind Will and leaned in slightly. “Such a daring boy. Who do you think gave me the idea to say such a thing in the first place?”

Will gazed directly into Hannibal’s eyes and felt everything else fall away. It was utterly cliché and he honestly could not remember experiencing such a thing with any of his past partners. It was intoxicating and gradually began to feel more and more overwhelming.

Hannibal leaned over further and let his mouth linger mere centimeters from Will’s, yet made no move to connect them. If Will did not know him better, he would interpret the move as cautious. However, he knew it was meant to tease him into reacting, and he did not intend to disappoint. A mere tip of his chin upwards had their lips brushing lightly.

Smiling briefly against Will’s mouth, Hannibal was the one that began to deepen it in earnest. It stunned Will in how different it was from their first kiss, jumping from a brush of lips to a demanding full on assault of his mouth. His mind yet again struggled to keep up as Hannibal almost immediately pushed his tongue past Will’s parted lips.

Will reciprocated eagerly and hoped he wasn’t being too sloppy in his desperation. He thought maybe he dropped his cider in favor of grabbing fistfuls of Hannibal’s expensive coat to pull him closer. A gloved hand wound around the back of his head, threading through curls, forcing his head to a more severe angle. He moaned and Hannibal sighed. The sound pooled in his stomach before dropping to his groin.

And suddenly Hannibal withdrew. Will blindly reached out to pull him back but Hannibal easily caught his hands. He pulled the glove off of one and brought it to his lips, trailing them against the fingers.

“I would love to continue, but this is not the place to do so.” He spoke against the digits before replacing the glove.

Will would have protested if he were not still so dazed. He nodded in agreement and tore his eyes from Hannibal. If he didn’t distract himself, he was afraid he was going to literally throw himself at the older man. So much for self control.

Hannibal stood and retrieved Will’s cider, handing it to him. “Shall we?” he asked, motioning towards the trail.

The rest of the walk was spent in silence as Will stubbornly refused to do more than glance at Hannibal. When they arrived at the car, he fidgeted and resorted to pulling out his phone to completely distract himself. The vents started to actually put out heat about fifteen minutes into the drive and Will suddenly became aware of how cold he was. Warmth sunk into his limbs and settled into his chest and head making him drowsy. He tucked his phone away and dozed off a few minutes later.

He awoke to the sound of Hannibal cussing sharply, which was unusual. The car came to a halt and turned off. After tossing him a troubled look, Hannibal snapped his attention back to his front door. It did not take Will long to notice the beautiful, statuesque blonde standing there.

“I suppose you two are going to meet after all,” muttered Hannibal.

Without any further explanation, Hannibal got out of the car and gathered up his cider. Will rushed to catch up and help him, to which he said a curt “thank you”. As they approached the front door, Will noticed the woman smile thinly. Her hair was perfectly styled and fell in large curls around her stern face and her keen, blue eyes immediately sought him out.

“Hello, Hannibal.” Her voice was lower than Will expected. “I’m sorry for the intrusion. I tried calling but you didn’t answer.”

“My apologies, I seem to have forgotten my phone at home.” Hannibal set his bags down and pulled his keys from his pocket.

“Who’s your shy friend?” asked the woman nodding towards Will, who was awkwardly keeping his distance.

“Oh, how rude of me.” Hannibal paused in unlocking the door. “Bedelia, this is Will Graham. Will, this is my ex-wife, Bedelia Du Maurier.”

Will stood rooted to his spot as Hannibal opened the door and gestured for everyone to step inside. Bedelia nodded at them both politely before disappearing into the house. Will did not move until Hannibal called his name, jolting him into action. He was offered no words of assurance as he walked past Hannibal into the house. Bedelia had already removed her shoes and was standing in the hallway beyond the mud room, facing away. As he nervously removed his boots, Hannibal appeared beside him and did the same. It was only then that he placed a hand on Will’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry about the cider, leave it. Go into the living room and wait for me,” he whispered. “I’ll try to be quick.”

After sitting down on the couch, Will turned his head to watch as Hannibal led Bedelia to presumably his study. She cast him a strange look as she walked out of sight. He sat in silence for a few minutes before opening up his laptop, still sitting on the coffee table from the previous day. Idly surfing the net, he strained his ears for any clue as to what they were discussing. At one point he thought he heard muffled shouting but wasn’t sure. Roughly fifteen minutes later, they came back into the hallway and Hannibal appeared visibly flustered.

“Once again, I’m sorry for the intrusion,” said Bedelia, pausing in the hallway. She turned towards Will. “It was nice meeting you, Will. Take care.”

Hannibal followed her into the mud room and Will heard some whispers drifting from it. Shortly afterwards the front door opened and closed a little too hard. Hannibal breezed out of the room with bags of cider and doughnuts in hand and went directly into the kitchen. Will scrambled to his feet and collected the remainder of the cider, following.

When he noticed Hannibal uncharacteristically slamming the pantry open, all questions died on Will’s lips. He was obviously upset, and Will would be lying if he said he wasn’t intensely curious what caused it. His empathy warned him to keep his mouth shut, though. As he watched Hannibal dig in his fridge and pull out leftovers, it dawned on him what was going to happen next.

“Here’s the food I promised,” said Hannibal sliding a glass container across the counter towards Will. “I think it would be best if you leave now.”

“What? Why?” Will blurted out the questions without thought. “B…because of her?” He jabbed a finger towards the door. “What the hell did she say to you anyways?”

“It’s not about her.”

The tone should have been warning enough, but Will pressed on. “Of course not,” he scoffed. “Afraid she’s going to rat us out? She’s the vindictive type, huh?”

“Not particularly, no,” Hannibal gazed up at Will through his fringe, a glint of anger flashing across his eyes. It was the most outwardly emotional Will had ever seen him, and the fact it was probably caused by his ex-wife made jealousy churn in his gut.

“Then what is the problem?” said Will. “Tell me, or I’m not leaving.”

“I…can’t explain it right now.” Hannibal moved slowly around the island. He stopped at a decent distance from Will and crossed his arms.

“Why not?!” Will was shouting now, and edging closer to Hannibal despite the blatant alarms going off in his head to stay away from the man. “What kind of trust can we build if you’re hiding things from me? How am I supposed to trust you to help me get better?”

“Maybe you can’t trust me,” said Hannibal lowering his arms. “Will…please leave before I say or do something I’ll regret.”

“Like what?” Will was close to him now, so close he could practically feel the heat coming off of Hannibal’s body. He could certainly feel his barely contained anger. If Bedelia could piss him off, so could he. “Are you going to hit me? Go ahead. I can take it.”

Hannibal abruptly surged forward, and Will braced himself for a blow that never came. Instead, Hannibal forced him back until he was up against the wall, and then pressed his body roughly against his, knocking the wind from him. He took Will’s head in both of his hands and crushed their mouths together harshly. Teeth clacked, and Will lagged to respond as Hannibal plunged his tongue into his mouth, only to draw Will’s out and suck on it. He continued to assault Will’s mouth and ground their hips together, eliciting a low groan. Will’s hands were spurred into motion and instinctively settled on Hannibal’s rear, futility trying to push them even closer.

With a growl, Hannibal withdrew his head. “You…need to leave. I don’t want this…”

“Oh, you clearly want this,” said Will. He rolled his hips back in response, feeling the hard length pressing into his thigh.

Hannibal gave one last shudder and pulled away completely. Will whined in protest. He didn’t think he could handle much more of getting aroused and denied.

“We can’t do this, Will. I…can’t cross this line with you. Not while you’re my patient.”

“But I’m really not your-“

“ _Will_ ,” Hannibal interrupted. “Stop being a goddamn child and get out of my house.” He paused and when Will made no move to go, he yelled. “Get out! I don’t want to deal with you right now!”

Will flinched then frowned as he felt all lingering hope flee from his mind. “Jesus, fine. I’m fucking leaving. I didn’t want to do anything with you anyways.”

Stomping out of the kitchen with frustrated tears gathering in his eyes, Will began to collect his belongings. They started to stream down his cheeks and he didn’t even bother to brush them away. He methodically pulled on his coat and boots, not taking the time to fully lace them, and completely forgot about his scarf. One last glance back showed Hannibal standing in the hallway staring at him with an odd expression, somewhere between regret, anger, and grief.

“Fuck you, Hannibal,” said Will. He wanted to spit more venom, but decided a huffy retreat was in order, assuring him the last word. He slammed the door with more force than he intended and jogged to his car.

He cried the entire drive home. He cried on the short walk to the loft. He cried as he tossed his pantry in search of the bottle of wine he had hoarded away for a “special occasion”. When he had about a quarter of the bottle in him, he stopped crying and stared into space for a while. He didn’t want to feel anything, so against his better judgment, he took some alprazolam and continued to drink. Around dinner time, with some soothing nature show on offering a distraction, he felt good enough to pick through the food boxes and bags laying scattered on the kitchen floor. The medicine and alcohol were playing off of each other nicely and he felt comfortably numb.

Settling on various bags of snacks, he migrated back to the couch and continued his pity party. Now that he was in a chemically induced calm, his mind wandered back to the fight. He supposed he should feel bad, but really, he didn’t. He felt justified in his jealousy and anger. Not only did it bruise his ego, but hurt his feelings that Hannibal had kept him in the dark and essentially rejected him. He thought they shared a unique bond, a growing understanding of each other and surprising ease of communication. Having never truly felt this with anyone else, he could not help but cling to it and ultimately idealize it. Of course it did not hurt that Hannibal was also wildly attractive and so far was reciprocating Will’s advances.

Will knew he had already fallen hard for Hannibal. There was no denying it. He honestly never figured anything would come of it. The last couple days had proven him drastically wrong. He wanted to meticulously comb through every event that had occurred between them recently, but found his addled brain incapable of it at the moment.

Simply put, without any bells and whistles, he felt betrayed. He wasn’t sure if he had any right to be, but feelings did not often discriminate under such circumstances. He sighed heavily and washed down his latest mouthful of Doritos with a swig of wine.

Maybe it was for the best that nothing had happened. The thought simultaneously depressed and pissed him off. He tried to ignore the feeling of tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. A glance outside showed light flurries falling from a dark sky, the first of the season. He reached over to clumsily switch on a lamp, nearly knocking it over in the process.

After zoning out to the mating habits of large cats Will heard his phone’s notification sound. He reached over to pluck it from the coffee table and was surprised to see he had a text from Hannibal. It simply read, “I’m sorry.” Will took another large gulp of wine and realized the bottle was mostly empty afterwards. Another text came through.

“Please let me make it up to you.” He read the text out loud, then sat and stared at the screen after it went dark.

Immediately, he thought to ignore Hannibal and let him suffer for a while. He chugged the remainder of the wine and tossed the bottle away carelessly, muttering a few curses. Nothing good would come from trying to have a rational discussion in his current state anyways. He sprawled out on the couch and nearly drifted off to sleep before a loud pounding startled him to consciousness.

It wasn’t too late. Maybe it was Jack or Beverly, or very unlikely, his dad. They didn’t drop by often but it wasn’t unheard of. Hell, it could even be a neighbor. He rose and stumbled to the door, throwing it open and belatedly realizing he had never locked it.

What he somehow didn’t expect to see was exactly what he saw. Hannibal was standing at his door, bags in hand, a strange mixture of panic and relief displayed on his face. Will was at a loss for words, so Hannibal let himself in and shut the door behind himself, thoughtfully turning the jimmy lock. Will turned to walk away, but Hannibal dropped the bags where he stood, caught his arm, and yanked him into a tight hug.

Every thought Will had to struggle or resist fled from his mind the instant those strong arms closed around him. He let out a shaky breath and relaxed against Hannibal. After a long moment passed, Hannibal pulled back, removing his coat and shoes without a word. Will stepped forward against him as he advanced, and placed his hands on Hannibal’s chest, remembering the first time he had done so. The muscles flexed under his fingers as Hannibal raised his own hands, placing one on the small of Will’s back and the other on his face. He caressed it as he leisurely took in Will’s visage, eyes roaming over everything as if he were seeing him for the first time.

Will let him linger, shamelessly basking in the attention. Incremental movements of Hannibal’s hands and his proximity were awakening dulled nerves. There was a raw tension hanging in the air between them, thick and electric. Will was determined not to make the first move that time, and his inebriated state helped him remain still when he otherwise would have succumbed to impatience. His heart started hammering quickly in his chest despite nothing happening, and he felt like a live wire, a fuse ready to blow.

Then suddenly, Hannibal was on him, kissing him passionately, tugging and tearing off clothes as he backed them up. They stumbled through the dim loft, shedding each other’s garments as they went. Trying to remove Will’s pants caused them to trip and tumble onto the floor in front of the bed. Hannibal laughed and yanked them off of Will’s legs, taking his underwear with them. Next he tugged off both of their socks and allowed Will to hastily fumble with his pants. Eventually they too were discarded.

They were both stark naked and Will barely got a chance to admire Hannibal’s toned form before he hoisted him onto the bed with little effort. He climbed up onto the mattress, grasping Will by the hips and pushing him back before settling between his splayed legs. A sultry glance was all the warning he received before Hannibal dipped his head, taking Will’s half hard cock into his mouth.

Will watched with rapt attention, breathy hums and moans falling from his lips, eyes barely believing what they witnessed. Surely he had passed out on the couch and was having an elaborate wet dream. He reached out a trembling hand, carding fingers through Hannibal’s hair, testing if he was truly there. Pulling back, Hannibal wiped his mouth and smiled up at Will.

“Is this really happening?” he asked, breaking the silence between them.

“It most certainly is,” replied Hannibal. He kissed Will’s hip, tracing little circles on the other one with his thumb. “Your body is exquisite, lovelier than I could have imagined. Tell me Will…have you slept with a man before?”

Will tried to answer but found his voice cut off as Hannibal let a hand wander over the hip, brushing against his balls before disappearing briefly. He nodded as a response and puzzled as Hannibal magically produced a small container of lube and a couple condoms. “How…?”

“I hopefully brought them with me,” explained Hannibal, almost sounding sheepish. “Now…how would you prefer this to go? Shall we continue oral? Just use our hands? Would you like to penetrate me? Or would you like me to penetrate you?”

A few recent fantasies rushed to the surface of Will’s mind upon hearing Hannibal ask such candidly sexual questions. As much as getting the chance to top Hannibal appealed to him, he knew he was in no state to accomplish such a thing.

“I want you to fuck me.” Will made sure to make eye contact as he stated his desire. “However you want…just, please…”

“Very well.”

Will heard the tube open and moments later felt Hannibal’s fingers slip between his cheeks and teasingly circle his hole. The first one slipped into him with no warning, eliciting a groan.

“Does it hurt?” Hannibal wiggled the finger slightly before withdrawing it and pushing it back in.

“No….put another in.” Will had always tolerated penetration fairly well in the past. Sure, it initially felt intrusive, but never painful.

Letting out a huff of amusement, Hannibal slipped another finger in and thrust them steadily in and out. Eventually, he scissored them briefly, watching Will closely for any signs of true discomfort. He hooked them and probed for Will’s prostate, hitting it rather quickly dead on. Will gasped sharply as his hips jerked. Mindful of overstimulation, Hannibal continued by skirting only the edges of the prostate, drawing out a curse that cut off on a moan. Will felt the pleasure spike sharply and squirmed.

“St-stop!” he cried. “I’ll come too soon!”

Hannibal immediately stilled, then withdrew his fingers. He moved up beside Will and rolled him onto his side. With Will’s backside pressed against his front, Hannibal tilted his face towards him and gave him a long, languid kiss. Will felt his erection pressed firmly between his ass cheeks, which Hannibal could not resist thrusting against a couple times.

“I think this position will suit us best,” he said, brushing some stray curls from Will’s face. “You will last longer since I can’t move as vigorously on my side, and I can see your beautiful face.”

Will offered no response, mind swimming with drugs and desire. He laid his head on a pillow, trying to process what was happening, hearing the distinct sound of a packet tearing open. Hannibal withdrew only slightly as he rolled the condom on, and Will felt him bump against his buttocks slightly as he moved. After applying more lube, he lined himself up and instructed Will to lift his leg.

“Tell me if it’s too much.”

Will nodded, practically vibrating with anticipation. After what seemed like a long pause, he felt the head of Hannibal’s cock pushing into him, stretching past the ring of tight muscle. It certainly didn’t hurt, but as the thicker part began to slide in, he made a conscious effort to relax his body. Soon enough, Hannibal was seated in him to the hilt, and he halted to allow Will to adjust.

“Are you alright?” he asked, searching the young man’s face intently.

“Mmhm.” Will tilted his head to receive a brief kiss. “Start moving.”

Hannibal smiled and gave an experimental thrust. Will sighed and pushed back, encouraging him to continue. He set a steady pace, moving his hips with fluid grace, coaxing waves of pleasure from Will with each well aimed grind. Distantly, Will was aware that the drug cocktail was probably what was aiding his growing sense of euphoria, but he also liked to think it was something special about the way Hannibal was fucking him. It was so sensual and deliberate that there was no doubting the skill and intention. To have pushed Hannibal to that point against his better judgment, if he even had any, was definitely a victory.

Will turned his head and hooked a searching hand around Hannibal’s neck, silently asking for another kiss. Hannibal slowed to a rolling grind and obliged him, kissing Will deeply as he continued to move. He snaked a hand down to curl his fingers around Will’s erection, eliciting a gasp. Will broke the kiss and groaned as he arched his back. It was too much. It felt like Hannibal was assaulting his every sense. Sight, sound, taste, smell, touch, everything was overwhelmed.

“I’m…not going to last…” He practically sobbed out the phrase in warning.

“Stroke yourself. I’ll hold up your leg.”

Hannibal’s hand released him only to grasp his sweaty thigh and hoist it up. Will felt the angle shift, hitting his prostate just right, as he took hold of his cock, pumping it quickly. Hannibal began to thrust with purpose, increasing his pace. The building waves of pleasure spiked sharply and Will felt himself starting to tighten, from ass to balls. Hannibal let  
out a low groan behind him and that was all it took to topple him over the edge.

He intended to announce that he was coming, but the only sounds that escaped his mouth were soft cries and moans. Rolling his hips back a few times to increase friction, his body then went rigid as it tightened almost painfully before releasing a torrent of blinding waves of pleasure. It was so intense it startled him, emptying his mind thoroughly as each convulsion rippled through him, rushing to shoot hotly from his dick.

The only outside stimulus that somewhat registered in the following moments was Hannibal moaning his name and the sensation of warmth pulsing deep inside him. He let out a satisfied sigh and undulated his body once more for good measure. Hannibal called out his name once more, kissing his shoulder and neck in search of his mouth. Will felt Hannibal slip out of him carefully before maneuvering him onto his back. He peppered Will’s face with gentle kisses before seizing his lips in a series of lazy kisses, bathed in a post orgasmic haze.

“You were so good,” he praised, brushing sweat damp curls from Will’s face. “So good…”

Will splayed a hand over Hannibal’s chest, idly stroking the hair there before letting it roam down his abdomen. He was in good shape, all pleasant lines and angles. Hannibal seemed generally unconcerned that he was probably smearing come over him as he explored.

“You should have given me a chance sooner.” Will could not help tossing out a cheeky comment.

Hannibal laughed and ducked down to kiss him one last time before withdrawing. He removed the condom and Will gestured vaguely towards the trash bin sitting near the bed. Hannibal excused himself to throw it away and easily found the bathroom, considering the loft had an open floor plan. Will nearly fell asleep before Hannibal returned with a warm rag, gently cleaning the fluids from his body and blanket, covering him up afterwards. He then disappeared once again to shut off the TV and lamp, as well as put some food he had brought into the fridge.

When Hannibal finally returned to the bed for good, Will noted with amusement that he had worn his robe during his walk about. It was slightly too small on him and he had not bothered to tie it, naked body exposed through the front. He chuckled as Hannibal discarded the garment and slid under the covers, gathering Will into his arms.

“What’s so funny, you minx?”

“Nothing…I’m just ridiculously happy right now,” said Will as he nuzzled his head against Hannibal’s chest. “I haven’t come that hard in years which, if you consider my age, is a goddamn tragedy.”

“Glad to be of service.” Hannibal let out a content sigh. “Tell me this isn’t a dream, Will.”

“I was about to say the same thing. I guess we’ll have to wait until morning to find out.”

“Mmm…sounds good to me.” Hannibal kissed his hair. “Goodnight, Will. Sweet dreams.”

Will smiled faintly, finally giving into the drowsiness. “Goodnight, Hannibal.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished this chapter! *sobs happily* And hell yes for the slow burn finally paying off~ This is my first successful time writing one;;; I mean...Hannibal vaguely tried to refrain...but not really. Will is a hell of a tempter. And would you believe me if I said that Hannibal wasn't lying when he said his issues did not lie with Bedelia? Rest assured that we haven't seen the last of her. 
> 
> So, yes, I hope you enjoyed the smut chapter! Also, I must regretfully add that this story has very little comments for the amount of hits it's getting. I really do hate to ask, but please, please comment if you like it! It means the world to me :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Come join me on [tumblr](http://murdersymphony.tumblr.com/)!


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